Absolucion
by gkkstitch
Summary: Sequel to 'Antithesis'. Edward and Bella discover the consequence of the friend's sacrifice and ask for Carlisle's help to prevent it. Can the family's patron help when he is suffering his own crisis of faith? Vampire, Canon, AU, **OC AWARD WINNER 2010**
1. Chapter 1 Cogito Ergo Doleo

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some chick in Michigan who looks a lot like me, but answers to the name "Gremlin" on alternating Tuesdays and Sundays. We don't know why.**

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"Absolución" is the sequel of "Antithesis" and picks up where that story left off.

**"Antithesis" Recap:** _It shouldn't surprise anyone that Edward would have a vampire friend outside of the Cullen and Denali clans. What you might find surprising, however, is that Edward's friend is an assassin. As Alice explained, 'it wasn't like they exchanged business cards.' They met almost 50 years ago at a Blues Festival where Edward heard a particularly compelling pianist. The musician was a vampire named Rolle. They became fast friends speaking at length about music theory and history. The whole 'assassin' thing didn't really come up._

_Neither did the fact that Rolle's true love had been murdered: A love so deep and integral to his soul that her death devastated him. The loss of her broke his heart and shattered his mind. And then he was turned into a vampire... it's a long story._

_When, during a visit, Rolle discovered that Edward himself had found his perfect match in Bella Swan, the wayward assassin swore he would do anything to protect his friend so he would never experience that obliterating loss._

_Rolle returned to the Cullens ten years later with disturbing news that the Volturi were concerned with Bella's developing vampire skills. Combined with the gifts of the other members of Carlisle's family, the Volturi saw them as a potential threat. True to his oath, Rolle sacrifices everything — _their_ affection and _his_ freedom — to protect Edward and Bella from the Volturi._

§∞•••∞§

**Chapter 1: ****Cogito Ergo Doleo**

_The four of us burst through the trees and into the yard... into Hell._

_Rolle had Carlisle trapped from behind. With only one arm he held Carlisle locked in place with a frightening twist of limbs that seemed capable of ripping them off with a single motion. Rolle's other hand was clamped down on Carlisle's jaw, forcing his head back in another extreme position. I choked on the image of how easy it would be for Rolle to rip Carlisle's upper body apart using this torturous hold._

_As we came crashing into the yard, the torrential rain pummeling us, Rolle spun to face us causing Carlisle to scream in pain. I half expected to see Carlisle's arms fall to the ground with that sound._

_Esme screamed hysterically in response to his pain. I saw her in Rosalie's arms against the mangled side of Emmett's Land Rover. Emmett was face down in the mud. His arm was at his feet, a yard away._

~•~

Even with a hurricane howling at their door, for two solid days the house was quieter than Esme had heard it in twelve years. The last time it was this quiet, Edward had insisted that they all leave Forks, in order to leave Bella. That day, they were quiet because they felt Edward was making a mistake, but he had followed them in silence again and again over the years whenever it was suddenly necessary to move. _That_ quiet was only unvoiced disagreement with his decision. _This_ quiet was different and unsettling.

It was broken trust; misplaced affection; heartbreak.

It was Carlisle.

His mood was as dark as she had ever seen him. The past few years had been the hardest years he'd endured since his father had turned on him eons ago. The darkness in his heart began three years ago when they moved to Montreal. Like 9-11 in the United States, Canada also had a date to mourn. On March tenth, four terrorists entered the Montreal General Hospital and detonated the explosives they had attached to themselves in the middle of the emergency room. To honor Osama Bin Laden's birth one-hundred and twenty-one people were hurt, and fifty-two were killed. It had been Carlisle's first week in his new job as the head of general surgery. He moved the entire family the next day and left the house abandoned. Though he had spoken very little about it, even to Esme, the terrorist attack that forced them from Montreal left a deep impression on him and had shaken his views in humanity.

His faith in a greater good, a greater purpose, had sustained him for centuries. When he ended his vow of isolation by changing Edward, it was partly because of that faith in God's greater plan, a plan that was reaffirmed for Carlisle when Edward found Bella. God had seen Edward's great need and had crafted Bella for that purpose. The only issue was that God needed time. Carlisle believed it was because they were immortal that they could see the Lord's plan unfold over time: that mortals simply lived in a blink of God's eye and were not around long enough to see the greater good of his work.

No matter how he imagined it, though, the death of so many and the selfishness of panicked and frightened people could not be in God's greater plan. Carlisle had told Esme with disbelief about an uninjured but frightened man fleeing from the debris while his dying child cried for him beneath the rubble. Carlisle always saw people as better than they were. His faith in that truth took a horrible beating that day. No matter how he tried, he could never finish telling his beloved wife and confidante what had happened. The entire event left him so heart sick it seemed like an infection in his spirit.

When they arrived in Halifax, Carlisle had turned to his family to heal his heart. He took a teaching job, trying to build the morality of younger people, hoping this could put God's greater plan back on track. When he needed to see purity and goodness, Carlisle simply sat back in the living room and watched his family, each of them a desperate and precious hold on his faith. After hearing of Rolle's earnest pledge to protect Edward and Bella, he had been the first person outside of the family that Carlisle had put his faith in; a faith that was utterly crushed three days ago when Rolle had turned on them all. His actions sent Carlisle's faith spiraling into depths where he felt unsure it could ever be repaired.

The hurricane had finally passed, but no one had been able to even consider enjoying the storm after Rolle's attack on the family. No one had even tried to hunt again. One by one, they had slowly left Carlisle and Esme's room and retired to their own rooms. They showered, changed into clean clothes and found uneasy comfort in the arms of their spouses. With Jasper's help, Alice had silently gathered up the ruined clothes and burned them.

For two days, they stayed sequestered in their home; alone together. When the storm broke, they tentatively reemerged into the world.

Carlisle was the first to escape the confines of the walls in the small hours of the morning. When Esme ventured out to find him the rain had subsided to fat drops escaping the boughs of the trees. The yard was a tangle of leaves, branches, roofing shingles and tangled yard furniture. She found her husband standing alone now on the edge of their property, staring at the sunrise over the ocean.

After the others left their bedroom where they had huddled together for support and to soothe one another, Esme and Carlisle talked more about what the others had seen Rolle do to Demetri. The apparent range of his influence and the odd pulsing sounds that had made them all feel sick were troubling, but not nearly as sickening as the speed at which Rolle could decimate another vampire.

Carlisle wanted to believe that Edward was right about his friend; that Rolle had staged his attack on them to protect them. But he couldn't stop coming back to how easy it was for Rolle to destroy a vampire. Even the notion of it had made Carlisle feel sick, as if they had brought in a pet snake only to learn it was a cobra that could have wiped out and killed his entire family in the blink of a vampire's eye.

It had been Charlotte and Peter who first spoke uneasily of the rumors of a vampire assassin who did not work for the Volturi but hunted and killed other vampires: a vampire with unparalleled tracking skills. When Edward came to the family one night and told them that Rolle had admitted to being this same vampire, no one could believe what he was saying. They had already met Rolle on several occasions. He appeared affable, sometimes amusing, sometimes withdrawn.

Carlisle had identified Rolle as possibly bi-polar or schizophrenic upon hearing more of Edward try to explain that Rolle believed that he was a demon living in hell and still seemed to understand that he was a vampire visiting a friend in Washington. Carlisle hypothesized that Rolle was suffering from some kind of psychological trauma from being alone so much.

He had been right about the psychological trauma, and had only really learned about the truth of Rolle's past the night Rolle met Bella for the first time. Even so, his story only made him more sympathetic; imbalanced perhaps, but not malicious.

They all thought they knew what was possible if Rolle had a psychotic break, but no one had wanted to believe it.

Despite this, Esme knew Carlisle still tried to see the good in him. The night Rolle told them all about the death of his true love, and how he'd hunted down her murderer only to be 'killed twice', as he put it, by Marcus, Carlisle spoke to Esme about his diagnosis of extreme psychological trauma caused by emotional distress. Being attacked and abandoned by his own maker reinforced Carlisle's beliefs in Rolle's baser goodness. Carlisle explained to her that Rolle's self-imposed vegetarian diet was a clear indicator of the depth of goodness in him.

It turned out that Rolle concealed much more craft than anyone had realized. He wasn't a lost boy. He was a powder keg with a burnt fuse. One couldn't know if it was safe to approach, unsure if it might yet explode — or rip off your son's arm.

It was that wile that now left Carlisle questioning everything about what he believed and had him staring out over the sea in solitude.

Esme walked up behind her husband and wrapped her arms around his waist. Carlisle raised his arm to let her snuggle closer and lowered it over her shoulders, kissing her hair.

"Good morning, Petal," he whispered.

"You didn't hunt at all, did you?" she asked him. She could feel the tension in his body when he didn't eat.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. The motion was slow and weary. She didn't have the heart to scold him for not taking care of himself.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked instead, looking out over the violent red of the oddly calm Atlantic.

Carlisle inhaled deeply. "Thinking. Praying."

"What were you praying for, darling?" Esme smoothed her hand over his chest.

"Honestly, I don't even know," he answered.

Esme slid her hand back and forth across his stomach. "You don't know?"

Carlisle hesitated, not really wanting to admit the truth to his wife, but unable to do anything else. "Maybe I was just hoping to have a little sit-down with God."

She held him tighter. "What would you talk about?"

His eyes closed heavily and he took a deep breath. The ugly truth fell from his lips, because she wanted it. "I'd want to know... Is all of this really worth it?"

She froze at his tone that made his words even more worrying. Her strongest human memories were her worst memories: the beatings, the hunger, her son's death, and her depression. She heard that depression in Carlisle's voice now. Fear gripped her in clammy fingers, but when she spoke, she was surprised to hear such wrath in them.

"Carlisle Cullen!" she cried and let him go, turning to stand in front of him. "You rethink yourself right this minute." She put her hands on her hips and looked straight into his eyes, her fear at his words burning like anger in her. She was fierce in her protection even if it meant protecting her husband from himself. "You look me in the eyes and ask me that question. You look _Edward_ in the eyes and ask that question." She poked him on the chest and kept going. "And because it was worth it to Rosalie, we have Emmett? And because it's worth it, we have Alice and Jasper? And Edward has Bella?

"We change the world one starfish at a time!" she reminded him of one of his favorite parables.

It was a story he told her often of a little girl walking along a beach covered with a million stranded and dying starfish. She was throwing some of them back into the life-saving water one at a time. When a man pointed out the futility of her efforts and said she couldn't possibly make a difference, the girl simply held up the starfish in her hand and said, "It makes a difference to this one."

"I wanted Rolle to be a starfish," he admitted sadly.

Her eyes softened as his confession. "Tch." She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "Sweetheart, perhaps Rolle had already been left on the beach too long. He was too far past our help. If what Edward thinks is true, then perhaps Rolle gave us his last gift."

Carlisle pulled her into his arms. She held him tight, inhaling his scent of oak and autumn. His words and his now ever-present malaise worried her more than she wanted to admit.

Above all of her most painful human memories, Esme remembered the depression and despair the clearest. She never thought she'd ever see Carlisle grappling with these particular emotions: he was her rock, her constant, her light. She hoped she was misreading the darkness in his eyes, but her hopes were in vain when he spoke.

"I've called the dean of students and asked for a leave of absence," he said, and Esme stilled a shudder at his confession. He had never before made a decision like that without talking to her about it first. "Maybe it's possible to live too long and to see too much to keep your faith," he murmured.

Esme pulled back and looked up into his face, each word made worse by the sad conviction she could hear from him. She knew she couldn't bully him out of his ennui; she'd only make it worse if she tried. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, holding his gaze, but the dullness she feared was there in his apologetic eyes. She petted him, stroking his hair back from his face before leaning in to kiss him. She tried to stir the passion in him, deepening her kiss, but his heart was too heavy to do more than offer his lips to hers.

When she surrendered and released him, he pressed his forehead to hers, but could not meet her gaze now, having failed her in the simplest way.

"I love you," he said quietly, hoping it sounded more like the declaration he wanted it to be and not an apology.

Esme tightened her embrace. "I don't like seeing you in pain like this."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just..." Carlisle stopped short and raised his head, looking in the direction of the house. Edward had appeared there looking toward them and went back into the house.

Esme turned and followed his gaze back toward the house, then looked up at her husband. "He'll know something is wrong," she warned him.

Carlisle took a deep breath and his face smoothed over. She understood the action without asking and knew instantly that his choice would be to keep this from Edward, too. Esme ran her hand over his chest, rubbing wrinkles out of his shirt with her fingers.

"Are you sure you want to hide this from him?" she asked softly keeping her eyes on her task.

Even the thought that Carlisle would intentionally keep this from Edward frightened her. Edward had been Carlisle's first companion, his first confidante in this existence. They shared a bond that no one could ever replicate. If Carlisle was to the point of hiding things from even Edward, what did that say about what he was hiding from everyone else?

She took her worry and buried it deep. That was the only lesson she had taken away from Charles Evenson: how to hide her fear.

Carlisle answered her by catching her fingers. He kissed them tenderly, then turned her hand over and kissed her palm. Esme curled her fingers over his cheek. His silent answer confirmed her worst suspicions. Esme felt the desperate panic coil inside though there was no sign of it in her honeyed eyes, no evidence of it in her sympathetic smile.

"When you're ready then," she said.

§∞•••∞§

When Carlisle and Esme walked into the house, they found the entire family already gathered and pensive. Alice stood behind Jasper, her cheek resting against his back and her arms around his waist. Bella and Edward were waiting on the sofa holding hands. Rosalie was tucked under the now-healed arm of Emmett. If it still ached at all after Rolle had ripped it off, he made no show or mention of it, simply wrapping Rose in stoic support.

Sensing Carlisle's emotional stress, Jasper met his eyes with a question, but with a single shake of his head Carlisle dismissed the silent concern. He led Esme into the center of the living room to join the family circle. Everyone understood it was now time to decide how to proceed.

Alice was unusually quiet and would not meet anyone's gaze. She seemed to almost be hiding behind Jasper. Esme tried to give her a reassuring smile of support, but there was simply too much worry in her to manage it effectively.

"The airport has announced that flights will resume this afternoon after they complete cleanup and some repairs," Edward offered quietly.

Carlisle immediately bristled with worry. "Where are you going?"

"We're not going anywhere. We want to catch Rolle at the airport and talk to him," Bella began when Edward did not. A collective gasp of shock went around the room, followed by the weight of the dangers to Edward and Bella if they were wrong.

Bella looked slowly around the room at the faces of her family, ending with Carlisle. "We need to know if we were right."

"What?" Carlisle hissed in shock. "After what he's done to this family?"

With a heavy sigh and a glance at Bella, Edward confessed, "The more we talk about it, the more we think Rolle did all this for _us_, but we..." he tried to explain and failed. Bella squeezed his arm in support. Edward glanced around the room at their family, and said heavily, "We just need to know the truth."

"He made his decision," Carlisle said and his cold tone made every eye in the room turn to stare at him in surprise.

Jasper _felt_ Carlisle's bitterness.

Edward _heard_ his bitter thoughts.

Edward stood up abruptly. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and anger. In all the years they'd been together, Edward had never heard such rancorous thoughts from his father. Carlisle was the forgiving one, the patient one. Of them all, he was always the most understanding, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt even when it was undeserved. Why he suddenly chose now to shut out any possibility that Rolle had done all this to protect them, to protect _Bella_, felt like an attack on Edward's judgment.

"He might be giving up his freedom and peace of mind... _for us!_" he added that last heatedly. "This isn't like dying in battle to protect a brother. If we're right, it's willing _exploitation_, Carlisle! Not exactly high on the chart of romantic sacrifices I'd be proud to have imposed on another for my sake.

"Do you think I could condone that? That another being — my _friend_ — may be debasing himself so I can be happy?? Do you think I can let a single moment pass with my wife when we won't wonder what price Rolle is paying for that gift?"

"You don't know what his true motivations are, Edward. For all we know this is exactly what he planned all along!" Carlisle shot back.

"I have to know the truth. If there's even the slightest chance that we're right, I have to know. I can't accept that all of this was simply an elaborate machination so Rolle could join the Volturi."

"That may be exactly what it is! The simplest answer is the truth," Carlisle pointed out loudly.

"How can you believe that?" Edward gasped. "If it's true, he'll never have peace. Do you think that because Rolle _believes_ he's living in hell already that it's all right for him to actually _be _in hell?"

"Volterra is hardly hell, Edward," Carlisle pointed out in a condescending tone.

Edward moved aggressively forward as Bella leapt to her feet and grabbed his arm before he could do or say something else he'd regret. "Edward!" She pulled on Edward's arm, shooting a glance at Jasper for help, but their brother was already working to calm both Edward and Carlisle from this argument. Bella could feel Edward's stiff posture slacken, felt the muscles in his shoulder unlock enough to let her drag him toward their room.

She shot an apologetic look toward Esme, even as she coaxed Edward to follow her. "This isn't the time to talk. Everyone is still upset about...."

They disappeared down the hall.

Carlisle's arm dropped away from Esme. He closed his eyes and lowered his head in chagrin. _ Edward, I...._ he thought to his son, but a door slammed shut down the hall. Alice startled, crushing her eyes closed.

_...sorry,_ Carlisle added wearily in his mind.

He raised his head even though he was ashamed of his behavior. Jasper gave him another offering look, but again Carlisle silently refused the gift.

"I'll be outside," he said quietly, when Esme moved to follow him, he stopped and held up his hand to hold her back. Her eyes filled with pain at his refusal to allow her to accompany him. Carlisle raised his hand and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.

"I just need a moment," he explained, hoping his tone would make clear what his words could not.

§∞•••∞§

Bella pulled him into the center of the room and released him. "Edward, we can't start turning on each oth..."

He cut her off by crushing his lips to hers, plundering her mouth with his tongue. Bella did not flinch from his aggressive attention, but instead let it wash over and encompass her, offering no resistance to him. She understood where it came from. Things he treasured, people important to him, felt like they were slipping away, out of his control to stop it. He had to reassure himself that the single most essential person in his life was still there, still safe, still protected. Bella absorbed it all opening her mind to him instantly, soothing him with assurances of her presence, her safety, and her love.

When Edward trailed his rough kisses over her jaw and down her throat, Bella rubbed her hands over his shoulders, massaging the tension from him. His argument with Carlisle had completed the final stage of overturning his composure. As her presence reassured him that of all things, _this_ was constant, his tight control relaxed into her familiar presence. He began to tremble in her arms, angry at himself for blowing up like that with the one man who mattered more to him than any other in the world.

"Shhh." Bella soothed him with her voice and hands, pressing her cheek into his hair. As his frenzy abated and his rough grabbing hands became tender caresses, she pulled his head back and rested her forehead to his.

"Look at me," she whispered. He opened his eyes obediently and his breath stilled in his chest at the absolutes he saw in her eyes. "You're right here, with me. _We're_ right here."

She cupped the sides of his neck and stroked his skin, catching strands of his hair between her fingers. "I feel exactly as you do, Edward. I'm willing to take this just as far as you are." She lightly kissed his brow, then his eyelids and cheeks. They leaned quietly against one another. Bella lowered her hands to his shirt and methodically slipped each button open. When she freed the tails from his belt, she pressed it off his shoulders.

Edward did not help her. He didn't stop her when she undressed herself. He didn't resist her when she pressed him gently toward their bed with her hands on his chest, and followed him down on the comforter. She lay over him with the entire length of her body, giving him the contact she knew he needed.

"Bella, I..." he tried to say.

"I know," she whispered back, silencing him in the manner only she could use.

She raised her hips and reached between them holding his shaft with her small hand as she positioned him at her entrance. He felt the wet and very familiar welcome of her body. She looked into his eyes as she slowly lowered herself onto him. Their combined exhale were silent moans of surrender. With his body within hers and her mind within his, the rest of the physical world faded from their vision to shades of grey. All he could see was her honey-colored eyes, the muted yellows of a new dawn and a new day. Buried deep in the only home he would ever need, he lifted his head to hers kissing and then gently sucking on her lower lip. They did not move with intention. There was no purpose to the intimate embrace except connection, grounding themselves to one another as electricity raced over their skin as it had the first time they touched.

She brought her mouth back to his, not kissing him, but using her lips to caress his. He could feel her breath dance across his mouth. He touched the tip of his tongue to hers in a slow tentative dance that began to erase everything else from their minds: Rolle, The Volturi, Carlisle, until the only thing that remained was the physical touch of his lips on hers. Their hands stilled as both concentrated their awareness toward this single touch of lips and tongue, tasting the eternal promise of their love.

_Better? _she asked without words.

Edward nodded as if hypnotized by her.

She pressed down onto him and was rewarded with his breathy groan and a slow blink.

_I'm yours, _she told him silently. He nodded.

She bore down onto him again without retreating the ground she'd gained. Edward grunted and tensed.

_You're mine,_ she reminded him with her thoughts. His mouth formed the word yes, but no sound passed his lips.

_Mine_, she assured him with a fierce and overwhelming possessiveness that her mind growled into his. Her eyes hardened with the warning of a predator. He whimpered this time as she pressed down again. It was barely movement at all and yet it felt as though it spanned a chasm.

Edward forced himself to remain still, letting her control him, _needing_ her to take control of this moment when everything seemed out of their control. He raised his hands to her backside, pressing and kneading his fingertips into the soft flesh.

My _husband_, she thought with a gusty exhale that ruffled his hair as slowly pressed him into her.

My _mate_. She kept him lodged deep within her body, contracting her muscles around his hard shaft to show her possession of his body.

My _lover_.

Each proclamation of possession echoed in his head, branding his mind.

She paused for what could have been a moment or an hour, then she pulled back all the way and bore heavily down onto him beginning the process anew. She repeated every word, each time pressing with the faintest of motions to drive him deeper.

_Mine. You're mine. My love._

Her teeth pulled tenderly on his lips, the gentle erotic sucking of their mouths making her sound like a predator in the midst of a meal. Soft growls and grunts provided the harmony to the wet soft melody of their bodies.

She tipped her hips and found even more depths, guiding his shaft to the spot they both knew well. Though the journey was not new to him, Edward was always stunned by the way their bodies came together perfectly. The friction between them began to build exponentially.

_My mate. _Press, relax._ My Edward. _Shift, relax._ My husband. _Rock, relax.

He was trapped, ensnared in her wet hot body; squeezing and releasing with exquisite precision again and again, each time slower than the last.

_My protector. My heart. My dream. My everything._

She began to tremble over him. _ Edward, I know you can hear me._

"Yes," he hissed, the sound of his voice rough and unnatural against the sexual music of their room.

She pictured her intentions in her mind, playing it out like a movie for him. It crushed his restraint like tissue paper. Her body followed her thoughts. As she had pictured for him, she moved back quickly and roughly impaled herself on him again, and again. His strong hands guided her as she wanted, gripping her hips tightly and pulling her body to his. Bella gasped his name as his cock spasmed violently inside her, pulsing into her clutching body as they came together. She drove him deeper, relishing the feel of his unforgiving hands on her skin. She wanted the strength of his touch to be one more connection they would have at this moment. Rotating and grinding fiercely against him, she worked her body toward her own climax, coming together with him with one final push. Bella collapsed over him, limp and spent. He gasped as if his life depended on the air he frantically gulped.

His hands felt numb and weak as he slid them over her sides and wrapped his arms around her. He whispered, "Mine."

She pressed a kiss onto his chest then lay her cheek over his quiet heart. "Yours."

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **Nothing is ever done in a vacuum, and when you write, you affect everyone around you because the "art" of writing is a deep and soul-searching thing, from the silliest crackfic to the most zesty lemons. Anything that occupies your mind _this_ much, not only at the keyboard, but at the office, in the store, in the car... Trust me. People around you _can_ see it. They might not know what it is, unless you simply tell them, but they do see the deep distraction.

So having learned this after 20-yrs of writing fanfic, I first have to thank (and apologize) to my family. I don't deserve a fraction of the understanding you allow me. I also have to thank my friends, both in RL and internet-fandom. To those "in the know" and who see the depth of my fascination because they're in the thick of it with me, you have my deepest affections. I've made some of my closest friends in fandom, and in the years to come, I hope to count you among that number: that our friendship will outlast "Twilight."

So to those, my previewers, I place my hand on my heart and try not to get all choked up as I thank you for your love, encouragement, and friendly dope-slaps to the back of my head. ::grin:: **IrishGirlTaken**, **coolmommy99**, **Milalencar**, **giselle-lx**, **LolaShoes**, **Philadelphic**, **Nerac**, **Aciepey** and **original_audience**.

Special thanks to **LolaShoes** and **giselle-lx**, whose stories inspired me as much as "Twilight" has.

Thanks also to George, without whose encouragement, this sequel would not have been written. He gave me the best praise of all.

If you ever come across something in my story that doesn't make sense, then Google is your friend. I do a lot of research before I write a story, and 90% of it is from the internet. So if you have a question, the answer is out there! Or ask me in the review. I'm easy that way.

"Cogito Ergo Doleo." (I think therefore I am depressed.)

See my profile for links to chat thread, fanfic blog, story banners and more.

**It's been said that reviews can cheer up Carlisle... just sayin'**


	2. Chapter 2 What's done is done

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to this crazy chick that spends hours staring and playing with water drops from her fingertips. We don't know why.**

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§∞•••∞§

**Chapter 2: What's done is done**

**1960  
Constanta, Romania**

The humid air hung heavy with the smell of the sea and fish. Two small shadows stole from the city toward the surf. They passed without a sound under the waxing light of the moon that was hidden here and there by clouds sliding before it. They appeared and disappeared along the beach in different locations as the moonlight pulsed slowly in the sky. Each time, their winter-white skin heralded their location before the moon caught them fully in its weak glow.

When the moon reemerged from hiding, the shadows were frozen on the beach. Two pair of burgundy eyes scanned the packed sand of the surf. The sand seemed to glow pearly white marred only by their two shadows, and _three_ sets of darkened footprints. Their two sets of prints were partially obscured in the shadows cast by their creator's. The last pair of footprints ran perpendicular to the waves. Each foamy lap reached farther and farther up the beach to scrub away the evidence.

Someone had walked out of the Black Sea.

The burgundy eyes moved together to scan the horizon of the sea, but there was no boat moored within sight. One set of eyes scanned up the beach, while the other scanned down, but no footprints could be discerned _entering_ the sea. Their eyes fell again on the footprints before them, and they slowly traced the path away from the water and toward their city.

The owners of the eyes were slight and short, a common stature for men at the time they had shed their humanity. One of them now answered to the name Stefan, though he had long ago forgotten his mortal name. His dark hair framed his face and cast his eyes in shadow. The other had ashy blonde hair that washed out in the moon's light. He had always been called Vladimir, even back to his humanity. They both exuded age and antiquity; eons upon eons of human history witnessed with barely a flicker of interest, though their sharp and narrow eyes held interest _now_. No one stepped upon Romanian soil without their knowledge, let alone without their permission.

Silently, they turned together and followed the indentations away from the water. The impressions looked less like footprints here away from the packed sand and blurred into odd dents as the sand became dry and loose.

When the elder vampires reached a scraggly copse of beach grass and shrubs, Stefan put a thin hand on Vladimir's elbow. A naked man stood with his back to them. By his scent the stranger was vampire. His body glowed as white as the beach. His platinum blonde hair stood up in wisps about his head giving the illusion of a halo.

"Tu trebuie să-şi prezinte singur in orasul nostru, camarad," Vladimir stated in a deep whispery voice.

The stranger turned slightly and looked at them with pale metallic eyes. His face was painted with confusion. "I don't understand," he said, but by the hollow tone of his voice, it could have been in reply or it could have been a simple statement of fact. As soon as the words fell from his lips, his eyes once again began roaming everywhere as if he were searching for something.

Vladimir glanced at Stefan. "Engleză?" he observed quizzically then turned back to the stranger. "I said, you must present yourself in our city, friend," Vladimir repeated.

"We have few rules here," Stefan added, "save that, and it is not negotiable."

The pale stranger looked around again. "Where am I?" he whispered, struggling to keep the quaver out of his voice and swallowing hard.

The elders paused and glanced at each other, half smiles formed on their matching lips, clearly amused.

"Where do you think you are?" Vladimir asked.

The stranger did not answer. He wrapped his arms around his chest and hung his head, trembling.

"Maestru," a new voice greeted from behind the elders.

"English, please, Erhan. We have a guest," Stefan requested gently in a commanding tone as both elders turned to acknowledge their acolyte.

"Yes, my Lord," he managed to say in almost discernable English. His accent was thick, the words forced. Erhan was short and thickly built with olive skin and dark hair. His eyes appraised the naked man before them.

"We have found a refugee washed upon our shores..." Vladimir began in a deep whispery voice.

"...who will not answer our questions," Stefan finished in such a smooth tandem that it sounded as if Vladimir had continued speaking.

Erhan understood his role and stepped forward. His eyes glowed red as he approached. His broad chest flexed beneath the brocade cepkenhe wore.

"You are guest here, yavru," Erhan said in his heavy accent, his voice low with no hint of welcome in his tone. "You will speak when spoken to." He took no notice of the violent shudders of the naked stranger. Many trembled before them, mortal and immortal alike. This was nothing new.

The stranger finally raised his head, but he looked with wide unseeing eyes. His fevered unfocused expression provoked Erhan, but it puzzled the elders. They leaned their heads together watching the stranger in interest.

"She's not here," the stranger muttered. "She's not here."

"Identify yourself and kneel before your elders," Erhan insisted.

"She's not here," was repeated again before Erhan dropped a heavy hand on the stranger's shoulder to force him to his knees.

His first attempt to press the stranger down failed. Erhan's eyes hardened and with a sneer he roughly shoved the stranger down with both hands.

"Your name!" he snarled.

When the stranger simply muttered again, Erhan brought the back of his hand against the stranger's head. A sharp crack split the air. The sound sparked a low rumble from the earth. The stranger spun to the ground with the blow, his shudders taking on an even more violent nature. Erhan grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back up to his knees.

With a violent yank, Erhan bent the man's head back, hissing into the stranger's face. "You will give your name!"

The stranger's eyes cleared in an instant and with deadly focus, settled on Erhan. The rumbling from the earth reached a crescendo like an approaching train.

The stranger struck Erhan's chest with the flat of his hand. "ROLLE!" he shouted as a cloud of dust replaced the old Turk.

§∞•••∞§

_"We don't want you to do this," Edward insisted, his own voice full of pain._

_Rolle's expression changed to a compassionate, knowing smile. "Don't be sad, Edward." He looked at Bella, but continued speaking to Edward. "You have everything here that you need to be happy." He faced Edward again. "You do everything and ANYthing to make sure she's safe or I'll kick your foolish head in. Don't," he said slowly, gently poking Edward's chest as he enunciated every word. "Become. Me."_

_Rolle pulled Edward into his arms and clutched him tight. "Don't lose the best part of who you are," he whispered to his friend._

_Edward gripped him firmly in return, his face twisted with remorse._

_When Rolle released him, he turned to hug Bella as well. "Take care of each other," he said, and then let her go, putting her hand in Edward's as he did._

_Rolle looked at both of them and then turned to leave. Before he disappeared around the corner, he paused and looked back. "Tell Carlisle that I didn't break my promise to him. Will you make sure he knows the truth?"_

_Edward wrapped his arm around Bella's shoulders and opened his mouth, but no words came out as he nodded._

_Rolle nodded once and put his hand over his heart, and then he was gone._

_~•~_

Edward's arm kept Bella pulled close to his side, but it was hardly necessary as Bella's arm around his waist was just as tight as they walked back to the car in the airport parking lot. Edward pressed a loving kiss to Bella's forehead before he opened her door for her and held her hand as she climbed into the car. She met his eyes briefly, seeing her own distress mirrored back in his eyes.

The enormity of Rolle's sacrifice was not lost on them.

Their friend was laying down more than his life for theirs. At least in death he'd find peace. No, he was doing something infinitely more significant. He was giving up his freedom, his free will and his peace of mind — what little of that there was, which made it all the more precious. He was giving up his very existence for all of eternity, bound forever to an enemy. He was turning himself over to the Volturi to try to keep them safe.

Edward closed the passenger door softly and walked around to the driver's side. Their eyes followed each other as he made his way around the front of the car. They did not speak as he pressed the starter and put the car into gear. They did not look back at the small airport as they pulled onto the lonely road. They did not want to see the plane taking off.

Without sharing a single word Edward and Bella Cullen suddenly asked themselves the same question: How could they pass a single day in happiness knowing that somewhere their friend stood in silent pain, the staunchest defender of their love?

He was no soldier, honor bound by the call of duty. He was no policeman, striving to keep his community safe. He was no politician, exchanging political favors to keep a nation secure. And yet, Rolle was becoming all those things for them, to keep them safe, to keep them together: a memorial to true love, a memorial to the one he lost.

He was, in truth, only a poor minstrel with a broken heart trapped in the pain of a loss so deep that his mind could not bear the burden of it. Edward understood this better than anyone.

The car's engine purred, the constant hum broken only by the double hiccup of the tires when they passed over fractures in the pavement that had been filled with tar. Without a word, they reached for each other at the same moment, clasping their hands together. Their thumbs stroked slowly back and forth over knuckles and fingers, each lost in their own shock and realizations.

Edward thought back over the last few weeks when Rolle suddenly appeared at their new home in Nova Scotia. He thought about what he'd gleaned from Rolle's fractured thoughts. Edward thought about his fondness for his friend, even though he could not bring himself to fully trust him. Never once had he considered that Rolle was capable of sacrifice of this magnitude.

When Rolle offered to kill Caius, Edward was not surprised. When Rolle was unable to return a show of affection to Carlisle, Edward was not surprised. When Rolle's presence at the house became sporadic and unexplained, Edward was not surprised. As much as he hated the memory of it, when they had burst into the yard to find Carlisle in Rolle's deadly hands, deep down Edward was not surprised.

Hearing Rolle admit a moment ago that the threat to Carlisle had all been a ruse to deceive the Volturi elder, however; Edward's shock and surprise.... and gratitude, pierced him like a knife for having doubted his friend.

In the quiet confines of the car's cabin they sighed heavily at the same time. Startled at the coincidence, they smiled sadly at each other, squeezing the fingers they held.

"Edward," Bella began slowly, "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but..."

"I know. Me, too," he added, bringing her fingers to his lips.

"I don't know what's worse," she whispered. "I'd do anything for you," she said, looking at him suddenly. "I'd die for you. I'd probably even kill for you."

"But asking a friend to submit to..."

"Slavery!" she finished in a gasp.

Edward winced at the word. "I know."

"It's too much."

"I know," he repeated.

"Part of me..." Bella tried to begin, "My God, Edward, part of me is actually so thankful to him, but as soon as I think that way I feel like a horrible selfish..."

"Stop," he said quietly trying to keep his voice even. "Bella, please."

Guilt over even tacitly accepting Rolle's decision crashed over them. Being in love was supposed to change you, not force the world to change around you. How could they enjoy a frivolous moment without pausing to think about what the Volturi might be forcing Rolle to do? How could they watch a sunrise without wondering what was happening to him halfway around the world? How could they ever enjoy being together if it meant the unending suffering of another? How could they live with that?

It was already starting to eat them up inside.

"What was he _thinking_?" Edward hissed in impotent frustration. "How could he think we'd ever agree to this?"

Bella tried her best to soften the irony she knew must be in her eyes. "He's doing what he thinks is best for us in the only way he knows how no matter what it costs him... or us," she explained quietly. "We both know too well what it's like to assume to know what is best for someone else."

Edward looked at her askance. Together they remembered the time when Edward, himself, had done that very thing, despite the painful cost to both of them. They had long ago worked through that experience, but it drove the point home to him. Bella comforted him by entwining her fingers in his.

A sharp gasp, almost a sob, rushed from him. "I feel like we let him do this. We just drove away and let him sacrifice himself."

"Don't!" Bella said sharply. "Don't do that, Edward, please." Her voice cracked in desperation. "If we had known for sure, we could have come here prepared to argue with him. We're still in shock over everything. We couldn't know that he had planned all of this. My God! He attacked Emmett _and_ Carlisle!" She covered her face with her hands. "When I think about what Rolle could have done to him. I can still hear Carlisle scream."

Edward swung the car sharply off the road and deep onto the shoulder. Even imagining the possibility of losing Carlisle like that was too painful to imagine. He slammed the car into park and pulled Bella into his arms, kissing her face before burying his nose against her neck. They shuddered against one another.

Edward shook his head. "He didn't. He didn't do it." He pulled away, running soothing hands over her face and over her hair. He took a deep calming breath. "I don't think he could. I don't think he could really hurt Carlisle any more than he could hurt you or I."

Bella furrowed her brow in confusion. "But you thought he _could_ hurt me. You didn't trust him."

He tipped his chin pressing his lips to hers tenderly, before leaning his forehead against hers. "I don't know what to think any more, love, I really don't."

Bella tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her shoulder. She wove her fingers in his hair, so they could just breathe each other for a while to draw comfort and strength from being together.

§∞•••∞§

It was intolerable. Coach? Packed in with meat into a locker, Marcus curbed his shudder of disgust as he crossed through the front of the plane and into the over-crowded third class section. He had exchanged his own first class ticket so he could add his unexpected travel companion. He knew he should keep the Rolle at his side which required repurchasing tickets for two seats to be together. He had hoped in vain they would at least be able to remain in first class. All international flights were overbooked due to the storm so with no bags to carry other than the one following him on its own two feet, Marcus took his seat next to the window. Rolle slid in beside him.

It was utterly intolerable.

Marcus' scowl sat on his face like an unwelcome guest; like the unwelcome guest of his traveling companion. When he made the boy, he never envisioned himself traveling with the tracker. He'd always assumed to simply wake up one day to find the man standing over him with a sneer on his lips and a flaming torch in his hands. Now they were flying back to Italy together like father and son.

Marcus took a small measure of relief in Rolle's silence. Based on the nervous energy and constant fidgeting Rolle had displayed as they left the Cullen's, Marcus had begun to worry that he'd have to destroy Rolle simply to keep his _own_ sanity. The farther away they got from the Cullen's compound the quieter Rolle's physical demeanor became. As more time passed, Rolle fell into heel like a well-trained guard dog, silent and unwelcoming.

When they had taken refuge in a local hotel to wait out the hurricane, Rolle simply stood against the wall in silent vigil. Marcus had noted his behavior without comment. Silent, still and watchful were excellent traits for the guard. When Rolle stood this way for nearly thirty-six hours, Marcus noted a trickle of grudging pride leak through his disinterest.

As the storm began to break Marcus called to have new clothes delivered to them. When the porter left, he handed one bag to Rolle and instructed him to get cleaned up for their flight. Rolle obediently took the bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Marcus heard the sound of the shower coming on and changed into a clean shirt himself.

More than an hour later, the shower was still running. Irritated that he had to do something about it, Marcus let himself into the bathroom without preamble. What he found disarmed his irritation momentarily, only to have it flare back twice as bright. His protégé was still in his torn and dirty clothes, standing in a torrent under the showerhead. There was no steam from the shower. Icy water pelted Rolle's serene face. Marcus manfully yanked Rolle out of the shower and turned it off. He shoved a towel into Rolle's hand and coldly told him to change and dress.

He hadn't spoken to Rolle since.

The airplane attendants walked up and down the aisles for their final passenger check, ensuring luggage was stowed, seatbelts were buckled and electronic devices were turned off.

Adjusting the dark-tinted glasses on his nose, Marcus tried to stifle his irritation at the memory. Rolle might be quiet, but he was becoming insufferably irritating. Marcus was not used to being required to care about anything. Indeed, he had cared about very little in almost seventy years, since Didyme's death. It was bad enough that Rolle was a reminder of that loss, let alone the inconvenience he was becoming now. Marcus knew he had no choice. Aro would insist on examining the boy, and it would be necessary now to have Rolle corroborate Demetri's insubordination.

§∞•••∞§

**1960  
Constanta, Romania**

The elders gasped as one, their eyes shot wide with surprise watching the cloud dissipate into the humid Ottoman air. Their mutual surprise gave way to understanding. They glanced at each other before turning their hungry covetous stare on the stranger.

"At last," they whispered together.

Their history with the Roman Volturi was long and black. As far back as Trajan, the Romanians — then known as Dacians — had fought against the Volturi. For almost two thousand years the wars raged between them in the guise of mankind: Dacian wars, Trajan wars, the battle of Tapae. Sixteen hundred years ago, the Dacians had soundly beaten the Volturi themselves in the Battle of Adrianople.

Vladimir and Stefan remembered those days well, the height of their power, when the Dacian Draco destroyed what they thought was the bulk of the Volturi might. The wolves chased down the fleeing Volturi like rabbits scared from the wood. To this day, the Volturi secretly harbored a deep fear of the wolf though no one outside of the two remaining Dacians knew this.

One hundred years later, the Volturi showed their true strength within Rome. Atilla, the Hun, fell in Italy. The manner of his death was reported back to be from a nosebleed, a simple nosebleed, but the fact of the blood-letting had been telltale. The night they learned of this attack a fire raged through the Dacian nest, claiming the lives of the entire coven, save two. The two attacks had been well-planned, and only chance had spared Stefan and Vladimir from the same fate as their brothers and sisters.

For fifteen hundred years the two survivors had waited for their chance to reclaim what the Volturi had taken from them. For fifteen hundred years they had watched the Volturi grow stronger and stronger collecting vampires who had powerful gifts.

In this one man, this youth from America, the ancient Dacians saw their future anew.

They stepped carefully forward, palms outstretched. "Dear friend," Stefan began in a gentler tone. "Please forgive our impertinent servant."

"He takes our meager wishes too far," Vladimir added equally servile. "Please, you must come with us."

"Here," Stefan offered, bending carefully at the knees without getting too close to Rolle. He lifted Ehran's cepkenand şalvar and lightly shook the sand from them. "Clothe yourself, our friend. Let us answer your questions..."

"...And show you the hospitality of our home," Vladimir finished again.

Kneeling in the sand and grass, Rolle blinked at the space where his attacker had stood. His shuddering frame stilled in disbelief. He blinked again, harder this time, his eyes rapidly scanning for the man who had vanished in front of him. When they focused on the outstretched clothing that the dark-haired vampire held out to him, Rolle drew back in fear.

Stefan glanced at his associate and a question flew between the elders. Rolle was staring at them, accusing, as if _they_ had caused Erhan to disappear. The boy had no idea of what he had done?

Stefan knelt cautiously and set the clothes back on the sand. He pushed them slowly toward Rolle before backing away, careful not to startle the boy into bolting like a wild animal.

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: ** Special holiday treats and red sharpie pens to my previewers: **IrishGirlTaken**, **coolmommy99**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. Different special holiday treats to my husband for the same reasons. And special notes to you, dear readers, cuz the devil is in the details. Heh heh.

The ocean scene was inspired by this commercial  
Youtube(dot)com/watch?v=Jmta7GwXCpo

Tu trebuie să-şi prezinte singur in orasul nostru, camarad  
[you must present yourself in our city, friend]

Engleză  
[English]

Maestru  
[Master]

cepken - a collarless vest or jacket of the Ottoman Empire  
Şalvar - trousers of the Ottoman Empire

See visual references from my photobucket site  
s861(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/ab177/gkkmouse/AbsolutionRefs/

yavru  
[whelp, young dog]

References about the Trajan and Dacian wars and history are from Wikipedia  
En(dot)Wikipedia(dot)org/wiki/Dacian_war

**Rumor has it you can stop Rolle's bizarre attack by leaving reviews... So I've heard...**


	3. Chapter 3 And thus I began my new life

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to this crazy Czech ****expatriate who was born in this country. Yes, we know that doesn't make her an expatriate, but we did say she was crazy****.**

**Join us on the Twilighted forum! www(dot)twilighted(dot)?f=33&t=3917**

* * *

§∞•••∞§

**Chapter 3: ****And thus I began my new life**

"What the hell does Rolle think he's doing?" Emmett asked. "It's just going to make things worse. Aro will know..."

Edward and Bella had returned home only to find the entire family reconvened in the living room as they had been before. Thanks to Alice, they all knew the outcome of the events at the airport.

"He's hoping Aro won't be able to read him," Edward said quietly. "He thinks by clinging to Gillian's memory, his thoughts will remain broken enough that Aro will not be able to read him, just like I can't read him when he's like that. Just like Alice cannot see him. He even thanked us for the opportunity to think about her all the time knowing that doing so will protect us."

"So attacking us _was_ just a ruse?" Esme asked, glancing at Carlisle.

Edward nodded. "The only way to make his plan work was to make us all hate him. Rolle knew Marcus would be able to see our relationship to him."

"So when Rolle attacked Carlisle, Marcus only saw our anger?" Jasper asked.

Nodding again Edward said, "Marcus sees relationships almost like colored ribbons connecting people. When we saw Emmett hurt and Rolle attacking Carlisle, Marcus could only see our anger and betrayal: violent red ribbons attached to Rolle, overshadowing everything else."

"What do you mean you can't read him when he's thinking of Gillian?" Carlisle asked softly. Esme moved closer to his side, sliding her arm around his back.

Edward looked from Alice to Carlisle. "We can't see him when he's.... broken like that."

Carlisle tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"That first night he came to the house and met Bella," Alice answered, "neither Edward nor I knew who was at the door, remember?"

At their various nods, Edward continued to explain. "He had no idea how he came to be at our home, no idea what compelled him to find us. He was..." Edward paused, trying to find a sensitive answer, "uh, _consumed_ with his memory of Gillian, of being with her." Edward looked uncomfortable discussing the details of what he knew. "It wasn't until he specifically focused on the memory of losing her that he..."

"That's when I jumped in," Jasper said. All eyes turned to Jasper and Edward nodded.

"What did you feel from him?" Rosalie asked.

Their brother took a deep breath and ran his hand over the back of his neck. He struggled to find the words to describe what he felt. He shook his head slowly as he thought. "Crazed desperation," he said, still shaking his head, knowing the words were not enough to describe the emotions.

"Is that why you attacked him?" Bella asked.

"I was afraid what he'd do to Edward in that mindset," Jasper answered, and Bella felt a swell of love for her brother's protective nature.

Jasper looked at her as he let her feelings about this wash over him and gave Bella a tiny nod of acknowledgement and thanks.

"How was he when he was here this time?" Carlisle wanted to know from Jasper.

Jasper looked immediately uncomfortable. _Edward, I..._ Jasper thought apologetically to Edward. He realized now what Edward's friend had done for them to protect them. He did not want to speak ill of the man.

"He was... unstable," Edward answered for Jasper, then nodded to his brother to let him know it was okay to speak openly.

"But so much better than anything I'd ever felt from him," Jasper said able to speak easier with Edward's support. "There were moments when he was outright jubilant. In all the times he's visited us, I'd never felt him so happy, almost playful."

"Most of the time," Alice added.

"Most of the time," Jasper repeated wryly.

"When was he not happy?" Emmett asked, recalling the few times he encouraged Rolle to take a hand at wrestling or teaching him about the new features of electronics around the house.

Jasper frowned. "Every time he came back from being away."

"That's why you kept leaving?" Bella asked suddenly. Jasper nodded. "Because he was what? What did you sense from him?"

"Anger, mostly, " Jasper said with a shrug. "Despair, frustration. He was just all over the map."

"And how was he when he stayed with us?" Bella asked again.

"Better. He was always better a couple days after he came back. I just started waiting to leave to go hunt when he came back, and if I took a couple days, he was always fine by the time I got back."

Bella looked at Edward. "Isn't that what you noticed?"

Edward nodded, explaining, "His thoughts would bounce between extremes suddenly and without warning."

"What do you mean, Edward?" Carlisle asked.

"Rolle has never stayed with us that long so I had never noticed his volatility before. When I realized what was going on I started paying more attention, tried to determine what would trigger the change in him."

"Were you able to learn anything?" Carlisle asked again.

Edward nodded hesitantly and shrugged. "I noticed something on game night that I'd never seen from him before." Edward paused and wrapped his arm around Bella before continuing. "Every game has a goal, and as we played, I noticed Rolle's thoughts start to mirror our own as the game continued. I think — I have no way of knowing for sure, but I _think_ this is how Rolle tracks his target. He doesn't read someone's mind, but it felt like he was copying their thought patterns, their problem solving abilities."

"A cognitive mimic?" Carlisle muttered thoughtfully.

"What is that, like brain tofu?" Emmett asked.

"How do you know what tofu is?" Rose asked with a frown.

"Those cooking shows on the Food Network that Bella likes," he answered unphased. "Tofu takes on the characteristics of whatever it's cooked with." Emmett looked at Edward, saying, "You're saying that Rolle starts to think the same way as the people he's around, and that's why he can track people."

"I suppose, but I can't know for sure," Edward said, saying the last to Carlisle. "He did admit that he can track people he's never met before which goes against that hypothesis."

"That's why his songs were so perfect," Bella murmured to herself.

"What do you mean?" Rose asked her.

"When he sings," she explained. "When he created those songs that night, I thought they were so perfect for each of you as he sang. He was singing what he mimicked from each of us; what we felt about each other." Bella met each of their eyes. "That's why they were so poignant."

"Then why didn't Edward sense that," Alice asked, "like he did on game night?"

Bella only shrugged helplessly. She looked at Edward to see if he could answer, but he shrugged as well, shaking his head.

"So what does that mean for us now?" Rose asked. "Do we need to worry about Rolle being around the Volturi?" When no one answered wondering the exact same thing, she looked at Edward. "Well? He's your friend, Edward. Do we need to worry about him sucking up the suspicions of the Volturi and coming back here to finish the job?"

"Rose!" Esme scolded, appalled.

"I don't know," Edward answered anyway, his voice heavy with guilt.

Carlisle's brow furrowed. "Edward?"

"I don't know what it will mean for Rolle. I'm only telling you what _might_ be possible, but I don't know anything for certain," Edward sighed, hating that he was only creating more questions than answers. I'm sorry. All I can tell you is that I don't like the idea of Rolle making this kind of sacrifice for us, but I trust that he did it to protect us."

He looked at Carlisle with an apology in his eyes for having argued with him earlier. "At the airport, he asked us to tell you that he didn't break his promise to you."

Carlisle stared at his son, remembering that night on the pier when Rolle weakly argued, "I'm not a gun." He tried to process now what Rolle's words meant; he didn't break his promise? Carlisle turned to leave and stopped knowing his actions would feel rude, but he couldn't find the words to explain how he was feeling. His mind tried to find the truth between the betrayals he felt and the facts he was learning about. He felt the eyes of his family upon him and simply did not have the answers they expected from him. Without a word, and without his usual politeness, he left.

Esme took a hesitant step to follow him but instead turned beseechingly to Edward. _Please, talk to him_, she implored without words.

Edward leaned to the side and kissed Bella, gently grasping her hand before getting up. He followed Carlisle out of the house. Their patriarch stood in the yard looking down at the place where Emmett had been rent and mysteriously left unconscious. Edward followed his gaze to the ground then looked at his father, wading through the jumbled thoughts of grief, regret and confusion. Topping the list, however, was disillusionment.

Resting his hand on Carlisle's shoulder, Edward suggested softly, "Hunt with me?" When Carlisle remained quiet, Edward gave him a friendly shake. "Just us. Like the old days," he entreated.

Carlisle looked up to meet his son's eyes. _I'm sorry about earlier, _he thought to Edward. _ I wasn't being fair to you. I trust your judgment, Edward. You know I do._

Edward offered him a small loving smile, but didn't want this to be about their argument. Carlisle was struggling, and he had been since Montreal.

"Come on," he said gently with tip of his head.

§∞•••∞§

**1960  
Constanta, Romania**

"I am Stefan," he said.

"And I am Vladimir," came the quick addition as if they were speaking from a script. "We are the lords here."

"And we welcome you to our land," Stefan finished. "Please," he gestured to the clothes. "Accept our generosity."

Rolle leaned forward and pulled the clothes to him. He glanced at them quickly before returning his nervous eyes to the small forms of the two men. Without another glance at the material he stood and pulled them on.

Rolle was considerably taller than Erhan had been. Tightening the drawstring, the şalvar hung from his hips no longer than board shorts. When he pulled on the cepken, the short vest made his chest look enormous.

"Excellent," the vampire elders whispered together.

Vladimir gestured up the beach. "Please, will you come with us?"

Following them as if being towed, Rolle stayed several paces back silently trying to figure out what he remembered of the last time he was on dry land, and now. Flashes of images burned his eyes. Some were as short as a photograph. Others were longer, like short movies. There had been a man with long white hair who had... had... Rolle's breath hitched in his throat.

He _was_ dead.

He was dead and _she_ wasn't here.

Gillian.

Roses. Peaches. Heaven. _Where was he?_ Copper. Ammonia. Broken cars. Blood. Lifeless pale-green eyes. _Hell?_ Her fingers slipping from his. Pincers. Sulfur. Leaves fell dead roaring in his ears. _Purgatory?_

The elders glanced back occasionally to ensure he was still there. It wasn't necessary to check except when his breathing stilled too long from the stuttering that sometimes came from him. He seemed at once curious and yet wary of his surroundings, trying to look at things around them surreptitiously from lowered eyes.

Stefan and Vladimir held a silent conversation between them, noting Rolle's oddly submissive behavior where only a moment ago his persona was every bit as dominant as their own. He seemed unwilling to focus on anything around him. When Erhan had towered over him, the young man's gaze was hard and unwavering, setting deadly sights on his attacker. The elders were left to wonder which was the true Rolle and which had merely been backed into a corner.

"Your accent is strange to us, my young friend," Vladimir said trying to sound casual. "Where are you from?"

"Chicago," Rolle murmured far too low for a mortal to hear.

"American?" Stefan picked up. "Wonderful! We have been there. Delightful variety of flavors."

"Yes, delightful," Vladimir concurred trying to curb his excitement. "And how long have you walked with us?"

Rolle glanced back at the sea now even more confused. They couldn't be more than forty yards away from where they had found him. As the elders turned to see why he did not answer they saw his nonplussed expression.

"Îmi pare rău," Vladimir said. "My, ah... apologies," he added quickly, finally finding the right word. "My English is not as good."

"We mean," Stefan tried to ask, "how long have you been one of us? How many years?"

"One of you?" Rolle repeated his confusion growing. He tugged at the short vest, doing further damage to it. He started wringing his hands and pulling on his arms.

He was one of them? They were like him? But he was dead. Rolle's mind tried to make sense of this, but the pieces refused to fit together. He knew he was dead... a couple times, at least! And these beings were accepting him as one of their own? After making the man they called Erhan disappear?

They were murderers, too, just like him.

Unbidden, a line from Hamlet formed from his memory: _the dread of something after death_.

This.

He understood and he understood why. Sinners couldn't go to heaven. Gillian was in heaven. He had broken the fifth commandment. His arms wound across his own chest like the vise of a python's grip. A seam of the cepken tore with the gesture. He had died without confessing his sins. He had died without final rites.

He had hunted the man down: deliberate, methodical. There was a month of stalking him, learning his patterns. Rolle had shredded his humanity, his sanity, and his mercy to destroy the man who destroyed his love, his life. Dirty, starving, defiled and not caring because it wasn't important, Rolle only had one goal. One purpose. Finding _him_. Attacking him. Killing him. Killing him as many times as necessary until the pain and the rage were satisfied.

The elders paused, stunned again by Rolle's odd behavior. They could not know the avalanche they had begun in his mind as image after image flashed behind Rolle's eyes: blood, broken bones, brain tissue squishing under his fists, the soft wet sucking sounds each blow made.

_Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,_**  
**_And for the day confined to fast in fires,_**  
**_Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature_**  
**_Are burnt and purged away._

"I killed him. I killed him," Rolle repeated over and over again, stumbling though he was standing still.

"Dear friend!" Stefan hurried to reassure him thinking his distress was over Ehran. "Please, it is nothing. He was nothing. This is what we do. It is what we were made for."

"Yes, please, think no more of it. The entire matter is, how you say, of no importance." Vladimir smiled gently with his words.

Rolle's face was a mask of horror and shock. A man's _life_ was of no importance? Rolle's mouth hung open under his terrified eyes and for the first time, he really looked at his surroundings: every shrub, every building now looming close to the sea, every grain of sand at his feet and every cloud in the dim night sky.

_But that I am forbid_**  
**_To tell the secrets of my prison-house,_

His fractured mind cast about for a pattern to link everything together again, to cast light into the dark, to make sense of the senseless. Suddenly, things started to look familiar to Rolle as if he'd been here before. His breathing calmed and his arms lost their cruel clutch across his chest. He stared at low stone building in the distance, finding the sight comforting the way home would feel after a long trip.

"He is easily replaced," Stefan said, seeing the tension ease inexplicably in Rolle's face.

Rolle's eyes focused on his two hosts. They were both slightly built and short. They would have looked no more than eighteen years old if their skin hadn't been powdery white. He looked at their clothes, understanding their attire this evening: dark, for disguising blood, billowing, to hide in shadows. He even understood what had brought them out onto the beach this night: sport, to relieve boredom.

_I could a tale unfold whose lightest word_**  
**_Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,_

This was now his life in death. Revenge was thick in the air.

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: ** As always, my thanks to my previewers: **IrishGirlTaken**, **coolmommy99**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. To George, well, you know.

The title "Absolucion" is actually the original spelling of the word found from this website. For more insight into this discussion, join us on the forum.  
Dictionary(dot)reference(dot)com/browse/absolution

cepken - a collarless vest or jacket of the Ottoman Empire  
Şalvar - trousers of the Ottoman Empire

See visual references from my photobucket site  
s861(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/ab177/gkkmouse/AbsolutionRefs/

Îmi pare rău  
[I am sorry]

_The dread of something after death_ is from Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1

_Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night_ is from Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5

**Reviews are like Valium for Rolle... So I've heard...**


	4. Chapter 4 I felt like one in a dream

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some IT chick. We're not sure who she is because there are hundreds of names that are all kinda the same, but different....if that makes sense. She's like a snowflake. Well, a flake anyways.**

**Join us on the Twilighted forum! www(dot)twilighted(dot)?f=33&t=3917**

* * *

§∞•••∞§

**Chapter 4: I felt like one in a dream**

The attendants turned off the interior lights and the few people who were still awake on the transatlantic flight became illuminated by a soft blue-white glow of their personal movie monitors.

Near them, a young couple clearly intended to spend the entire flight kissing and doing God knows what else under the blanket they shared. Based on their breathing, they weren't just holding hands under there.

Two people were in the middle of a marathon whispered argument. It had been going on since lift-off. The gist of the argument was over a girl. Based on the age of the young man arguing with the older woman who must have been his mother, it was a teen-aged thing. They were in love, the world — and their parents — were trying to keep them apart. It was all very romantic, except that it was annoying everyone around them.

A dark haired woman sat across the aisle from Marcus and Rolle. She shifted in her seat, pretending not to hear the whispering going on around them and glanced again at Rolle. For the twentieth time she admired his perfect skin, pale eyes and platinum hair. She had been noticing him since they waited at the gate in the terminal. With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to the glowing computer screen on her lap. Her own seatmate was asleep. The book the elderly man had been reading lay open on his chest as he snored softly.

Rolle was watching the in-flight movie and appeared intent on the ending. With a pained expression he watched the heroine die, her lover clutching her fingers. His own hand clenched tightly.

The woman beside him slid her eyes away from his now fisted hand and stifled a sigh as she turned back to her screen. She tried to block out the image of his angular jaw, the sharp nose and the long line of his kissable neck. She'd come onto the plane behind him and, staring at his butt, had tripped over the jet way. He knelt at her side, his face a picture of concern and held out his hand to help her up asking if she was okay. Her less-than-eloquent reply sounded like a hiccup.

She shook her head sharply remembering the jolt that shot through her at the touch of his cool hard fingers as he had helped her up; still feeling where they had grasped her arm. She pulled out a set of ear buds and pressed them into her ears as she opened iTunes on her laptop to help provide distraction and block out the mother-son argument. The music also blocked out the soft clicking noise from the keyboard of her Dell.

Tap tap tap tap-tap taptaptap tap. _Love that shaggy blonde hair action. Just push my fingers right through it. Wha-?_

She frowned at the typos. Delete- delete- delete- delete- delete-

She started typing again. Tap tap-tap tap tap tap tap. _Where do you get lips like that anyway? Macy's? Japan? Special order??_

_Crap._

Delete delete delete

Huff.

Tap tap tappity tap tap tap taptaptaptaptap tap tap tap.

_Guh, you could carve cheese off his chest._

_SHIT!_

SMACK SMACK SMACK

This went on for ten minutes before she yanked out the ear buds with a growl.

"Is something wrong?" Rolle asked her.

"Whya?" she hiccuped again. She made a pretense of clearing her throat. "What?" she repeated with more grace.

A soft smile touched his face. "Your computer. You were bashing the keys like you were getting back at it for something."

She laughed nervously. "It's nothing. The smarter they make computers for people like me, the more stupid they make us feel. Crazy thing keeps trying to autocorrect what I'm typing."

"What are you typing?"

The woman laughed nervously; shaking her head like it wasn't relevant. "Just getting ready for a presentation I'm giving in Paris."

"What kind of presentation?" he asked and she was surprised he was showing interest.

"I, uhh, I uh work with pain data."

Laughter lit up his eyes, but he only continued to smile politely. "Pain data?"

"I study, _my company_," she corrected quickly, "studies pharmaceuticals that inhibit pain impulses in the, uh, the brain," she said hoping it sounded smarter than her stammering.

"Am I making you nervous?" he asked quietly with a smirk.

"No," she answered defiantly at his gorgeous face. "Maybe," she corrected with a chuckle.

He laughed softly and held out his hand. "I'm Rolle."

"Rachel," she said returning his smile and shaking his hand. "The jet way klutz."

"Yeah, I caught that," he said.

"No, actually, you didn't or I wouldn't have ended up sprawled on the deck," she teased him back and was rewarded with another smile.

"Sorry about that. I'll be better prepared next time," he teased.

"Yeah, promises, promises," she teased back enjoying watching his lips move far too much. She pictured what those lips could do to her.

"I'm sorry you fell," Rolle leaned closer and teased back.

Marcus suddenly cleared his throat irritably as he stared straight ahead.

Rachel had seen them come aboard together. Even without the contrast to his dark glasses, Marcus looked even more pale than Rolle. His skin over his cheeks was almost translucent and looked papery. He had flowing black hair but it was still impossible to estimate his age. His face was young, but he did not give the impression of youth, even with his tinted glasses.

Rolle glanced at him over his shoulder and sat back.

"What are you doing?" Marcus demanded sotto voce, speaking under his breath so no human ear could hear him.

"Nothing," Rolle answered.

"Do not play with your food," the elder scolded.

"She's _not_..." He cut himself off and sat back in his seat, his expression stoic and fixed. He nodded curtly once and rose from his seat.

"Excuse me," he said to Rachel and walked toward the front of the 747.

Rachel frowned at Rolle's retreating back until it disappeared behind the curtain that separated coach from first class. She looked at Marcus and back to where Rolle had gone, annoyed at him for interrupting them. She huffed through her nose and put her ear buds back in, returning to her slides.

§∞•••∞§

**1960  
Constanta, Romania**

The patter of water on glass was soothing, almost hypnotic. Rolle stood at a thin slit of a window with his hand on the frame. His index finger tracked the path of raindrops sliding down the glass pane. The touch was as light as a lover's.

A persistent and stubborn rain had moved into the region lingering for three days and nights. The storm front seemed unwilling to risk the crossing through the Carpathians. The Romanians were happy to take advantage of the weather to keep Rolle indoors with them, talking to him at length about their history, telling him about their great victories and conquests before the fires.

Despite their attempts to draw him out, however, Rolle had revealed very little of his circumstances. He had been turned only eight years ago. What was entirely odd about this was that he had no knowledge of anything that had passed during that time. It appeared that his only memory from 1952 was being attacked by another vampire while in Los Angeles, until now, walking out of the Black Sea eight years later almost seven thousand miles away.

"My young friend," Vladimir said warmly leaning forward. "Still so quiet? What do you think of our history?"

Rolle nodded still silent and raised his eyes to look out the window. "You've carried this a long time," he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the politics behind the history.

Stefan looked skeptically at his counterpart.

"Excuse me," Rolle said absently and strode across the cold cement room.

They listened to Rolle walk through the old bunker, and heard the heavy metal door leading outside open then close softly behind him.

Stefan waited to speak until he was certain Rolle was not coming back immediately. _"We need to see him do it again,"_ he said in the ancient language of their land.

_"Yes, we need to know how he does this,"_ Vladimir concurred, rising from his chair and crossing to the window where Rolle had stood a moment ago. _ "We need to know he can control it."_

Stefan joined Vladimir at the window looking into the gully outside just as Rolle strode into view in the middle of the rainstorm. The boy turned his face up to the rain and stared into the downpour as if he had never seen one before. His preternatural eyes did not blink as the rain fell into them.

_"We need to know we can control _him_,"_ Stefan corrected.

_"Perhaps we should find another to provoke him again,"_ Vladimir suggested.

Stefan crossed his arms and raised one hand to chin as he thought. _"Yes, but we should also know how effective his attack will be on the mortals the Volturi employ. They will be the first obstacle."_

_"Let us take him hunting then,"_ Vladimir suggested. _"Perhaps we will learn more. Besides, I find his eye color disturbing."_

Stefan nodded thoughtfully, glancing at his brother. They had been through many battles together, and with luck the next one would finally right many wrongs.

§∞•••∞§

Rachel awoke with a start from the most erotic dream she had ever had. She squeezed her thighs together as a deep pulsing between her legs began to subside. She rubbed her hand over her eyes silently cursing the make-out couple behind her. They must have put the idea in her head, influencing her dreams with their sounds. She grimaced at the pain in her neck for her head had drooped at an awkward angle.

The flight attendant was making a slow quiet pass up the aisle with a trash bag. As she passed, Rachel glanced at Rolle's still vacant seat. His companion's face was turned to the window as if he could see the black sea below. It was so odd to see someone wearing sunglasses in the dark and she briefly wondered why he simply didn't take them off and get some sleep.

She glanced at her watch and rolled her eyes at her laptop whose battery had gone dead while she dozed. Her annoyance tripled when she couldn't remember if she saved the stupid file or not before she had drifted off. With a dead battery she wouldn't be able to check, either, which meant working on the slides after they landed. She rolled her eyes at her horrible luck and looked at her watch again when she remembered why she wanted to know the time. It had been almost an hour since Rolle left his seat.

Rachel closed the laptop, put away her folding seat tray and stuffed the dead computer back into its bag before getting up to walk out the kinks in her back and legs, and to find the restroom to wipe off her face and neck.

The rest of cabin appeared to be asleep as far as she could tell and she ducked around the dividing curtain. She walked to the back of the plane passing sleeping passengers, or those few who were still watching one of the many onboard movies they could choose from. She noted more than a few passengers who were taking excessive liberties with the free alcohol onboard. One man had five travel bottles of wine on his fold-down tray and was talking animatedly to a seatmate about the war memorials and battle sites he was planning to visit in Europe.

Rachel made it to the back of the plane and crossed over to walk up the other aisle finding more of the same. After properly locating six restrooms and still finding no sign of Rolle, she took the stairs to the other level and began her circuit once again. That level also had the business class travelers, most of whom were taking advantage of their bed-like chairs. Shoes were laid neatly on the floor at their sides.

She was still mulling over where Rolle could have possibly gone after completing another route around this level without any sign of him. She began to assume he might be in one of the lavatories or curled up in one of the secluded business-class chairs. When she took one step up the stairs to head back to her seat she spied him pacing in the back of the plane though she was certain he hadn't been there a moment ago.

She brought a finger to her lips and caught the nail between her teeth as she considered approaching him again, unable to stop the runaway thoughts in her head: an exotic trip, a complete stranger... correction a complete _hunk_ of a stranger, the mile-high club, a ridiculously small in-flight bathroom, the loud engines at the rear of the plane...

Just as she was about to chicken out, he looked at her.

His pacing stopped as he gazed evenly at her. His pale eyes regarded her across the dark passenger cabin as if they were glowing. With an almost imperceptible motion of his head he beckoned her and before she could decide what to do, she found her feet moving off the stair and up the aisle toward him.

When she got closer, she could see his eyes smoldering at her. He took a step back deeper into the shadows and she followed without thinking. When she was within reach, Rolle pressed his lips to hers, his fingertips lightly pressed to her jaw on both sides. Rachel whimpered with the contact, feeling his touch straight to her spine. He guided her with his fingers, his feather-light touch pulling on her jaw bringing her deeper into the dark. She floated after him on numb feet, grasping at the front of his shirt over his stomach. Turning, he pressed her against the side of the plane and as he leaned in toward her, every point on his body shifted in synchronization: his lips on hers, his chest to hers. His fingers slid along her face into her thick brown hair. His thighs came into contact with hers, and her hands slid around his waist and up his back drawing him closer still.

His level of intensity began to grow. His kiss, originally tender and inviting responded to her eagerness. Their slow lips seemed to hold a conversation: an offer, consideration, negotiation, and acceptance. The kiss they shared picked up pace as the proposition was debated.

She decided quickly that the negotiations were the most fun. She foolishly tried to get the upper hand, urging him without words to give her control. He considered her offer a moment, teasing her with his indecision, before wrenching that control from her by suddenly bringing his hand around to her breast and pressing into the tender flesh with a hard fingers. He opened his mouth to hers as he stood to his full height, forcing her head back to accept his kiss and plunging his tongue in to challenge hers. He knew exactly how to demand her compliance. Her whimpered submission was instantaneous and complete.

"Oh god," she gasped when he released her lips allowing her to breathe. He put his hand over her mouth to silence her as his assault on her neck shifted direction.

His lips pressed directly into her ear with a slow, "Shhhh," and he paused, waiting for her to comply.

Anxiety built in her at his stillness and it took her a moment to remember how to nod in agreement. Once she performed properly for him, he began again, this time starting with her ear.

Rolle traced the soft shell with his nose before plying it with his tongue and lips. In kisses and nibbles he tugged on her earlobe as her hands snaked over his chest to curl around his neck, tugging his hair in her fingers as she imagined doing only an hour ago.

He trailed his lips down the smooth column of her neck on one side and dragged his fingers along her skin on the other, pressing open-mouth wet kisses there and laying his tongue flat against the pulse in her throat. He paused there massaging it by pressing and prodding her flesh as if trying to dig through her skin with his cool soft tongue. His other hand pressed back deliberately through her tresses until his fingers curled around the nape of her neck, pulling her throat even closer.

That's when the roaring of the plane's engines disappeared and her world collapsed into the hum of her own body as every cell ignited under his touch. Her hands were suddenly clutching his shirt over his chest. She gulped air to keep herself from crying out under the sudden pressure of his insistent kiss.

He pressed her back with his chest, holding her in place against the side of the plane as his other hand plowed under her blouse, grasping and kneading the warm tender flesh hidden below her bra and his knee pressed mercilessly against her thighs demanding entrance. She ground her center down onto his thigh. The now wet material of her panties could not provide the friction she need.

His mouth returned to ravage hers as their urgency increased. His hand released her neck and skimmed over her shoulder and back, past her hip and onto her backside as he pulled her against him.

She stifled the groan that tore her in half when she felt the cold hard proof of his hunger. His questing fingers happened upon the clasp that held her bra closed and with a quick twist the clasp was conquered giving him unobstructed access to her heated flesh. The soft growl in his throat when he grasped her bare nipple threatened to break her resolve to stay quiet. She worked her hands between them to the top of his slacks, tugging hard on the front of his shirt to free it and burrowed her hands under the cloth scratching his solid abdominals hard enough to get his attention as she dipped her fingers deep under the waistband.

His hips bucked into her with a hiss and he shifted his stance, bending his knees to press his erection directly against her, wrapping both hands under her thighs to separate her legs and lift her.

With a frustrated growl, Rolle moved again and kissed her deeply before griping her wrist, yanking her hands from his pants, and pulling her after him. They had only rounded the corner out of the flight attendants cubby when one of them appeared from the other aisle.

Rolle yanked open the door to the lavatory and pulled Rachel inside with him. His intent was clear.

He turned to her and pulled her sweater over her head before attacking her breasts with his mouth. He moaned softly and she heard a click behind her as he locked the door. His need seemed insatiable and her body burned with impatience. He sucked her hungrily into his mouth, tonguing around and over the stiff aching peak while fondling and pinching the other breast with one hand and pulling her skirt up with the other.

It was like he had been her lover for years. He knew exactly what to do, what she liked, what sounds she wanted to hear. She fumbled with his belt while trying to stroke through the material over the rock of his erection, but her hands went dead when his own questing fingers found her. The strength of her tugging fingers sapped away as her brain shifted focus to what he was doing to her.

His fingers pressed into her through the scant fabric of her panties, wiggling and digging until he found the source of her heat. She knew she was wet, but she had no idea how wet she was until his impatient hand moved to her inner thigh to shift the material. His fingers were drenched with her and they pulled at the side of the material until he growled over her breast and simply destroyed them, pulling the crotch out. Without missing a beat, his cool fingers returned to their mission and pressed into her deep hot folds. The contrast of temperature sent Rachel's mind reeling. She threw her head back as she clenched his head in her hands, fisting his hair between her fingers at the startling contact. Rolle gasped with a hiss, his questing fingers sliding through her, pressing, pinching, slipping and rubbing all at once.

"_Jesus_," he breathed, plunging deeply into her at last. Rachel's legs began to shake and buckle inadvertently pressing harder onto his pumping fingers. He curled one inside her, then two, pressing the heel of his hand against her over-sensitive clit.

Rachel looked down at the sound of metal jingling between them. His fingers did not pause or slow as his other hand finished the task she had started and he tugged open his pants. Rolle dropped down onto the lid of the toilet, pulling her with him.

Rachel eagerly complied with his hands and unspoken directions which guided her to straddle him. His hands pulled her hips down and he sheathed himself within her fully. She gasped as he filled her in a single unpretentious motion.

Rolle shuddered violently. His breath stuttered when her heat encased him as a distant and constant memory ripped through him. His arms circled her waist as he muffled a strangled sob against top of her chest. He pressed his eyes against the gentle curve of her breast slowly shaking his head.

The strong and dominating lover he was suddenly vanished in a wave of pain as his shoulders shook in her arms. Rachel was mystified what had caused this sudden change in him, but he held her tight and his lips pressed tender kisses to her skin between sobbing gasps.

Rachel knew instantly that whatever this was, it was not guilt. This was heartbreak. She stroked his hair, petting him and curling her fingers gently at the nape of his neck. She laid her cheek against his crooning soft words and kisses into his ear.

First his sobs passed, then a moment later he pressed a telling kiss to her breast. He was still hard within her. Rachel placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled his face up to make him look at her.

His expression was so lost, his eyes at once tired and so desperately sad. He seemed to understand what she read on his face, and gently tightened his arms about her.

Rachel stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, passing them lightly under his eyes, surprised but glad. His expression was so pained and apologetic she expected to see tears on his face, though she was glad there were none. As his eyes closed and he returned her loving touch with his own thumbs on the back of her hips, she rubbed the pads of her thumbs over his brow, then gently over his eyelids. She leaned forward and pressed little kisses on his nose, his cheeks, his temples, over his forehead, and then caressed his lips in a slow touch to her own.

The frantic and almost desperate affair had quieted into something more healing. Rachel squeezed him slowly and softly where he lodged within her, and something in his tormented soul seemed to crack. She squeezed him again, slower and longer this time, gently milking away his pain, and the cracking became a fissure. The third time she tightened herself around him with her hot flesh, his eyes slowly opened to meet hers and his hands awoke under her tenderness.

Rolle's pale eyes stared into hers, raw and vulnerable. She was stunned to find this chasm of need in him strangling his soul. Her sudden realization of the depth of his pain shook her. The shocking knowledge stilled her to immobility. Rolle's naked gaze flickered with confusion. Seeing hurt begin to spark in his expression, Rachel realized he had misunderstood her sudden stillness. Her face softened and she tried to reassure him with her hands, gently rubbing over his shoulders and neck. She met his puzzlement with a tender smile before she rocked slowly against him.

She moved over him, squeezing him, urging him to join her in the moment again and was happy to see the darkness lift from his eyes being replaced by warmth, even gratitude. He swallowed hard as her hips moved over him again.

His hands moved softly over her hips now, not digging or grabbing or pressing. They simply rested against her, meeting her as an equal as they worked together to guide her. He began to move with her, raising his hips to meet hers. She used a different set of muscles to bear down on him within her and a low gasp escaped him.

He cupped her neck with one hand, guiding her lips to his as they slid slowly over one another. The slow burn in her body began to build again. It felt so familiar as she recalled vague memories of her dream earlier. She alternated clenching him and bearing down, pushing and pulling with her inner muscles, and another groan followed by a low oath escaped his lips.

She squeezed him harder, pulling him deeper still and pressed her lips to his ear. "More," she murmured directly into his ear, nipping him.

"Oh, god," he gasped, wrapping his arms under her arms and over her shoulders.

When she pressed down on him again, he used this new leverage to force her even farther over his hard length, rotating his hips and plunging them into greater depths.

"Oh, huh, oh, oh my god, ohmygod, ungh," she gasped. "There, oh god, there!"

Armed with this newfound map, Rolle became relentless. Rachel found she could suck him even deeper still by clenching him at the right time. It took a moment but she finally found a rhythm with him, plunging, clenching, rocking.

Now it was _his_ breathing that came in shocked gasps as she worked him ruthlessly. He buried his face against her breast again, now only to hold out long enough for her. Her lust battered at him mercilessly each time she tightened her walls around him; her body stroking, sucking, and milking him all at once.

"_Christ_, come..." he ordered her, his voice hoarse with strain.

With his words Rachel climaxed over him like a dam exploding under pressure. Her hot walls convulsed around him and broke his control utterly. He exploded in her, each pulse matching each of her spasms even as he continued to press hard into her. Rachel clenched her eyes shut for just when it felt like the crest had passed, another wave came over her, harder than the first and she dragged him down with her again. She couldn't stop herself this time. He caught her cry in the palm of his hand even as her fingers dug deeply into his hard shoulders.

Gasping, stunned and weak, they collapsed against each other, chest to chest. Neither of them moved, so he remained deeply embedded in her. She wasn't ready to let him slip from her, savoring the melding of their bodies as random shudders passed through them one to the other. She weakly squeezed him within her again and he chuckled under his breath.

"Just checking," she whispered.

"What? That I'm still alive?" he whispered back, sarcastically. "No. Trust me. I'm dead. Twice!" he joked with an oddly ironic tone.

She laughed softly.

"Better than working on your presentation?" he teased, his lips moving against her neck.

"Oh, hell yes," she agreed. "You aren't stopping in Paris for, oh, say, the next five days, are you?"

Rolle sigh softly. "No, Italy."

"Mmm," she hummed softly. "What's in Italy?"

He was thoughtful for a moment before he said, "A promise."

"Hmm." Rachel leaned back to see his face, letting her hips gently move against him again. "Well, promise me that if we ever find ourselves on the same flight again, we'll renew our membership."

He frowned with a smile. "Membership? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"The Mile High Club," she said.

His frown remained and he shook his head, smiling indulgently but still confused.

She ran her fingers through his hair over his temples and kissed him again. "Never mind."

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **IrishGirlTaken**, **coolmommy99**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. And always, to George.

_**Sotto voce**_ (Italian, literally "under voice") means to speak under one's breath. In music, a dramatic lowering of the vocal or instrumental tone — not necessarily pianissimo, but with a hushed quality.

**Reviews will get you 500 Mile High membership points, and a teaser for chapter 5... So I've heard...**


	5. Chapter 5 And there I leave it

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some IT chick. We've been asked by the author to remind readers that fanfiction is NOT just a hobby and that fish are not scary. Or maybe it was that keeping fish is not just a hobby and fanfiction is not scary. We don't know why you need to be reminded, but we find it easier to just go along with it with a nod and a smile.**

**Check out my blog for updates, teasers, pic references and additional notes and comments about today's post...  
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§∞•••∞§

**Chapter 5: A****nd there I leave it**

**1960  
Constanta, Romania**

The ancient Dacians led Rolle through the city streets of Constanta, but he kept pace with them as if he knew where they were going. Though the rain was finally abating, it still kept many indoors. However, Saturday meant coins in the pockets of the local workers, and Vodka waiting patiently for them in the pubs.

Rolle's eyes wandered again and again toward one of the many canals near the harbor. Small fishing boats lined the gabion baskets filled with rock that acted as seawalls here. The alleys grew more and more dismal, the businesses more shabby. The women on the street dressed more suggestively and eyed their passing with interest.

When they reached their destination, Stefan graciously held the door for Rolle, nodding knowingly to his brother. Though the rankling smell of sweating fishermen rolled out of the open door with a billowing wave of cigarette smoke, Rolle entered the old pub without thought or hesitation. He only managed to take two steps into the midst of the humanity pressed inside before he stopped dead in his tracks.

For eight years he had the silence of the ocean. For the past week there was only the two voices of his antediluvian hosts. The utter cacophony of at least fifty men made Rolle stagger. He threw his hand out to catch himself, hitting the heavily laden tray of a passing waitress. The tray tipped over the head of one man and into the laps of everyone at the table where he sat.

The roar of surprise and anger on top of the shrieking wrath from the waitress made Rolle flinch. His eyes widened with fear and surprise that had nothing to do with the five men who rose as one to turn on him for his clumsiness. Every eye in the bar captured him in their gaze. The complete focus on him from so many minds shocked him.

Stefan and Vladimir stepped into the pub and moved into the shadows along the wall, watching the events unfold with bright and eager eyes.

Rolle's hands flew to his head as he cried out moments before he was forcefully shoved backward by the calloused hands of an angry vodka-soaked patron. He stumbled backward against the waitress again, who toppled into the laps of two men at the next table.

There was more shouting as helping hands pulled the woman out of the way, and the uproar began. Ten men rose to push and shove at each other, their drunken hostility like a match to dry timber. Rolle tried to shove his way free only to be pulled back into the fray. Fists began to fly. Tables were knocked over. Glass broke on the dark hardwood floor. Shouts from the bartender tried to stop the mayhem. A man was tossed head over heels to land on a table. The solid oak legs refused to buckle and the man became still with pain.

Rolle tried again to escape the clutching hands, this time attempting to climb over the tables to get away, but several hands reached for his legs, tripping him from the tabletop. He landed hard on the floor. Glass shards were crushed into powder under his impenetrable skin. Heavy boots began to land on his chest and head though the owners of the boots cried out in pain when they landed a blow. Above him a knife glinted in a hand and disappeared into soft flesh with a distinct gasp.

The earth began to rumble. Overwhelmed by the singular focus of the mob, Rolle rose with his eyes as hard as flint. The dull roar began to build and pulse. Two men lurched away, vomiting. Moving too fast for a man to see, only Stefan and Vladimir knew exactly what happened next as Rolle lightly smacked three men on their torsos. All three men dropped to the floor without so much as a gasp. A fourth man fell when Rolle touched his head. Blood spilled from both ears before the man hit the floor.

Realizing the massacre they had unwittingly orchestrated in their own city, the elders rushed forward as one, extricating Rolle from the throng. With Stefan on the right and Vladimir on the left, they hooked their hands under Rolle's arms and dragged him backward out of the mass of flailing mortals before any human eye could realize it.

The noise was instantly muted as the door slammed closed behind them and they stood across the street from the pub. The sound of the melee inside the pub caused a passerby to pause in concern before she got too close. She took a half step back, pulling her young son with her. Glass continued to break. Some of the patrons escaped from a back door.

The dull roar from the ground around them had not abated. Rolle's expression was focused and burning. Stefan and Vladimir released him suddenly folded over in pain, dropping to their knees beside Rolle. They looked at each other in shock. Neither elder could ever remember feeling pain like this.

"Ce este acel zgomot?" a tiny voice asked in his native tongue. Across the street, a small boy of six or seven tugged on his mother's skirt.

Rolle's eyes lowered to look at the boy walking slowly back to the other side of the street. His lips twitched once, twice, and the third time, one corner curled up into a faint smile as his eyes softened. He took another two steps toward the boy and went down to one knee.

"Hello," Rolle greeted the boy quietly.

The child's mother reached down and took the boys hand in her own. "You're English?"

Rolle looked up at her and shook his head.

"American," she said with certainty. At his nod, she smiled nervously. "I'm from Boston."

"Long way from home," Rolle said, still kneeling next to the boy.

The rumbling noise subsided and the Romanian elders slowly got to their feet, watching their charge with intense scrutiny.

"I moved here with my husband," the woman said. "He grew up in Navodari up the coast, but we live here now."

"You met in college," Rolle said with certainty.

"Yes," she said, surprised. "How did you know that?"

Rolle shrugged. "Lucky guess. His parents sent him to the states to learn engineering, I bet."

The woman laughed. "Yes! Exactly."

Rolle looked at the boy again. "This little guy have dual citizenship then?"

The boy's mother sighed. "Yes, but it's been hard to keep things straight. The politics..." She trailed off, not feeling the need to explain the tensions of the various governments involved.

"What was that he was asking you a minute ago?" Rolle asked, still smiling at the boy, who was now feeling brave enough to approach him.

"He wanted to know what that noise was," she said even as she looked around, realizing it was gone now. "It sounded like an earthquake."

The boy returned Rolle's smile and reached out a small hand, touching Rolle's temple and cheek. The tension still trapped in Rolle's body released instantly at the contact.

Across the stree, the two elders watched the intereaction with growing interest.

"Did you see?" Stefen murmured to his brother.

Vladimir stepped closer, their moment of unusual pain already forgotten. "This is very odd, yes?"

"Mami, el are ochi destul de," the child said, leaning in to have a closer look.

The woman nodded and repeated, "He likes your eyes."

Rolle nodded and met the boy's even gaze. "Thank you."

"Tomás, what do you say in English?"

"Ou are velcom," the boy parroted.

A particularly loud crash and startled cries inside the bar suggested that the unconscious forms inside were being identified as more than just unconscious. Sirens began to blare in the distance.

The woman looked at the door of the bar, while Rolle stood and looked down the street toward the town in the direction of the sirens. He glanced back at Stefan and Vladimir who were standing shoulder to shoulder watching him intently.

"You should go before things get worse here," he said quietly.

"It was nice to meet you...?" the woman trailed off, holding out her hand and waiting for Rolle to take it and give his name.

Rolle shook her hand, but said instead, "It was nice meeting you. Go, and be safe."

He turned and walked back to the elders who waited for him. With every step, the curious and playful light in his eyes dimmed, until his face returned to the same blank expressionless stare he had worn for the past week.

He stopped in front of them for only a moment, then without being told he turned and headed back to the old bunker they used as their nest.

§∞•••∞§

Rolle sent Rachel back to her seat without him. He didn't want to, but he knew Marcus would do nothing to jeopardize his precious rules. He also knew he could not go back their seats with her. After Marcus' words to him earlier, he couldn't give him a reason to take any more interest in her. He had to let Marcus believe that he had heeded his warning. Rolle knew he'd have to get used to the tight collar he was going to have to wear now.

He raised his hand to his nose. He could still smell her in the tiny bathroom, and her taste... her taste... He sucked each finger into his mouth one at a time and closed his eyes with a sigh. Reaching to the sink, he pulled down a handful of paper towels to clean himself up.

He buttoned his shirt and stuffed it back into his pants when he noticed it, the dampness on his left leg. He felt his stomach sink and rubbed at a sudden pain in his head.

Marcus would smell her. He'd smell Rachel's scent all over him and he had no change of clothes. Now that he thought about it, Rolle realized that Marcus would smell _his scent_ on Rachel right now! There was no way to hide what they had done from Marcus. The Volturi knew that it was possible for a vampire to make love to a human without killing them: improbable, sure, but possible. Edward and Bella were proof of that, as well as the Alaskan succubae.

Rolle paused at the mirror looking at himself. Everything was so confusing. Edward had been wracked with so much guilt about losing control during intimacy and hurting Bella, and without a second thought Rolle had sex with Rachel. The reality of it stunned him.

He had sex with Rachel.

He had no idea where the urge came from. Sixty-six years of abstinence... No. Sixty-six years of devotion, grieving Gillian's death, and his entire consciousness was consumed with a need for Rachel's body in an instant. Once the reality of her around him, hot and wet, had hit him, all he could remember was the last night he'd had Gillian. The memory of her loving arms crushed him, but it was too late and his body's need — long denied — was too great.

It was Rachel, holding him tenderly in her body. It was Rachel's hands holding his face, trying to rub away the pain with her thumbs. It was Rachel who wanted him like this, wanted him raw and undone. It was Rachel who saw him as he was, and was unafraid of the chasm she had seen in him. For a moment, she stood at the edge of the cliff with him and did not turn away. Instead, she slipped her fingers into his.

Rolle took a long slow breath, more confused than ever. He boarded this plane with only one purpose: to do whatever he needed to in order to keep the Volturi away from the Cullens. He had closed his eyes and put his feet on the bleak path that would protect Edward and Bella at all cost. He had nothing to lose. He had nothing, after all. If he had to remain a demon in hell, he may as well be a demon with purpose.

He never expected a hand to reach out from the dark and rest gently on his shoulder. Who would want to save a demon?

Rolle looked at the bathroom door, suddenly aware of exactly how angry Marcus would be. He would do nothing, but he'd be unable to hide the anger in his face. Rachel would wonder why Marcus was obviously mad. She'd cower under his glare, anxious for Rolle to get back.

Rolle left the bathroom at a measured pace. Marcus would not be able to deal with the emotional overload. He'd spent too much time avoiding feeling anything at all. He was already taxed when they got onto the plane simply by having to deal with the trouble of having Rolle around. He wouldn't be able to maintain that heightened emotional level and knowing Rolle had disobeyed him _and_ had sex with the human woman. It would only remind him of his own lost mate and the crushing tedium of simply existing without her would return.

By the time Rolle got back to his seat, he found Marcus' anger gone and replaced with his usual malaise. Rolle also knew that Marcus had already made up his mind. He had also decided to leave Rolle behind in Paris after his insubordination. Marcus would go on alone to Italy to talk to his brothers first. He'd save his energy for that conversation.

Rolle clicked his seatbelt into place. Rachel was talking to her seatmate, trying to hide her nervousness about their dirty little non-secret. Her heart thumped when she realized Rolle was back in his seat.

Rolle knew if he ignored her, as he should for her own safety, that she would feel hurt and cheap. She was adult enough to know it wasn't like that, but a thin vein of insecurity ran through her. The time they spent together would make that line of vulnerability run close to her insecurity. Rolle didn't want her to feel slighted by his avoidance, because her tender gesture had meant something to him, that she had reached out to him to give him the gift of herself, her intimacy when he had thought himself past all kindnesses.

When Rolle was certain that Marcus had decided his course of action, he glanced at Rachel. She noticed his attention immediately and bit her lips to keep from smiling. Her heart began to race, but with Marcus right beside him Rolle could do nothing to ease the giddy shyness she suddenly felt. He couldn't stop his eyes from following the lines of her body, though, and realized too late that he was only making matters worse when a wave of her arousal drifted toward them on the dry metallic processed air of the plane's ventilation.

Marcus stiffened beside him and his hand clenched the arm of his seat, cracking the plastic as the plane touched down. He wasn't affected by Rachel's physical responses, but he grew more and more furious with Rolle because of them. A low growl and a louder grinding of teeth was hidden in the roar of the jets being thrown into reverse.

Rolle sat caught between the two of them: one wanting his attention, and the other wanting him to ignore the one wanting his attention. Marcus had to win. His crushing grip on Rolle's wrist ensured he would.

The plane taxied to the gate and the entire human population rose as a single unit. It became quickly obvious that Marcus' intention was to keep Rolle on the plane until they were the last to leave.

Rolle glanced at Rachel who kept shooting furtive looks at him. She would be hoping that he'd follow her off the plane, but she also wouldn't expect him to. As she slung her purse and luggage straps over her shoulder, she smiled meekly at him. Marcus' grip began to crush Rolle's arm. He could only give her a polite smile and nod.

"It was nice to meet you," she returned with equal politeness before she shuffled along with the others down the aisle.

Rolle sat and watched her leave until she disappeared through the outer hatch and never complained about the grip mangling his arm.

The rest of the passengers scuffled by them. They were not quite the last off, but Rolle knew that Marcus had waited long enough even though he did nothing to rush his decision. He knew as soon as they got off the jet way, Marcus would tell him of his decision. So he was not surprised when Marcus pushed him toward the rows of empty chairs away from the humans.

"You will wait here in Paris until you are sent for," he said, shoving a cell phone into Rolle's hand. "I will go ahead to Volterra and discuss your actions concerning Demetri. There may be consequences," he warned Rolle with stern significance in his voice.

Rolle knew there would be no consequences, and Marcus was lying to him, but he played along. "All right."

Marcus slapped Rolle's boarding pass into his chest and walked away, leaving him there without another word.

Rolle instantly knew where he had to be, and where he could not be.

He couldn't go to her hotel. She hadn't told him where she was staying in Paris. If he showed up there, he knew her first reaction would be elated surprise and arousal, followed briefly by curiosity about what he was doing there when he'd told her he wasn't staying in Paris but rather going straight to Italy. Then all that would disappear and he would be the scary stalker guy who followed her to her hotel.

No, he couldn't go to her hotel. He'd have to be someplace she could feel they accidentally ran into each other. It would be easier to deal with hurt and anger, than fear and paranoia.

Rolle knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She'd register at her hotel and try to get some sleep, but she'd be too wound up. She'd try to finish working, but wouldn't be able to focus so she'd go out into the city and try to wear herself out. She'd walk along the river toward one of the two landmarks: the arch or the tower.

The answer came to him and he smiled, shoving the ticket into his pocket and headed out of the terminal.

§∞•••∞§

**1960  
Constanta, Romania**

All three vampires could easily see in the oppressive darkness. There was simply no way to avoid the worst areas of the road. The car lurched through potholes a foot deep, climbing out with deep growls from the old Mercedes engine.

The drive was long, but the conversation was the same. _"I am not convinced this is the best way to proceed,"_ Stefan cautioned using their old tongue to keep the nature of their conversation from Rolle who rode in the back seat pensive and sullen.

_"It was the hostility,"_ Vladimir repeated for the tenth time since the incident in the pub. _ "I am certain of it. Consider, my brother, Ehran attacked him. The mob attacked him. It was the child that provided the key."_

Though Rolle himself had been coldly placid since the incident, the Romanians had methodically examined and debated the consequences of that night for the past four days. They went back and forth over what they had seen happen and what they guessed was the cause.

Rolle had inadvertently started a fight. The mob attacked him and he attacked back. In less than a blink of the eye, he had killed four humans, though the news reported five deaths. After making inquiries the Romanian elders received copies of the final report from the medical examiner office. One man died of repeated stabbings from a knife. His killer was already in custody.

The police were currently trying to link the murderer to the other deaths, but were running into considerable issues. Though there were no outward signs of attack at first, early examination of the bodies had revealed deep bruising on the torsos that were later identified as 'catastrophic organ damage of unknown cause.' Simply put, wherever Rolle had touched them, their organs had burst. The man Rolle tapped on the head had his brain explode in his skull. The resultant injuries of these attacks were so completely different than Rolle's attack on Ehran. Both elders agreed that it was the nature of the material being effected. Ehran was a vampire, his body unyielding as stone, but mortals were very yielding and rather squishy.

The long and ominous silhouette of the psychiatric gulag slowly slid into view on the desolate plain. No trees grew here. Nothing broke the horizon except the four lonely buildings behind a nine-foot fence. The grass was tall, brown and dormant from the summer heat.

A single guard unlocked the gate and pulled it back to allow the car in. As they pulled past, the guard's face was illuminated in the floodlight and bright red eyes crinkled into a knowing smile as the vampire skirted a bow toward them. The dark shadow of the actual guard lay folded and broken nearby.

One building was set apart from the others. It was less like an infirmary and more like a house. A sign listed two names of the doctors in resident there. The two largest buildings were long simple cement blockhouses with four wings sticking perpendicular from the main hub of each hospital unit. The last building, and obviously the oldest in the compound, was broad and flat on the edges and taller in the center. This building was made of stone and appeared to have been a jail at some point in its life. The windows were set with thick iron bars. Their car slid up the drive and stopped in front of that building. Heavy worn stone stairs lead to the main door. A large sign was stenciled above the large porch: "Zonă Periculoasă Pacientului."

Rolle automatically climbed out of the car, but stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he turned to face the building. The car door was left open behind him. His eyes went wide as he stared at the building less than twenty feet away. At three in the morning, only a single yellowed light illuminated the door into the asylum. The windows were dark, the doors shut, and the patients inside all asleep.

Rolle stared at the building as if were a creature from hell vomited from the depths of the ninth circle. His breathing became shallow and quick.

Vladimir gave a smug knowing look to his brother and took Rolle by the elbow. "Come my young friend. You obviously need to feed. We've not seen you have a drop since you've been our guest. Perhaps these will be more to your taste."

Rolle's feet moved with a heavy sucking motion as if he were being pulled through mud by the vampire elder. They ascended the stairs slowly and only with more encouragement by Vladimir. The stones were worn in the middle, grooved by the years of use. Rolle's breathing grew more erratic as the door loomed before them. The latch creaked and snapped back before the door swung wide open without a sound from the old iron hinges. Rolle's eyes shot up and down the hall, already searching for a way to escape with his first step through the arch. His steps were now nervous and short, itching to leave as quickly as possible.

The mental processes of the men and women in this building, even asleep, were crazed and focused on the demons of their many psychoses. Their diseased minds were amplified now in their nightmares. Vladimir had brought him to the ward for the violently insane.

"No, I..." Rolle muttered. "This is...." He gasped and weakly tried to pull his arm back. "I have to... Please, this is...." His steps became more forced; his voice was louder each time he tried to speak. He was visibly agitated now as Vladimir urged him down the hall. Rolle's eyes shot back and forth from door to door.

"We'll simply pick one for you, shall we?" Vladimir encouraged politely, now dragging a reluctant and struggling Rolle down the hall.

"There's too much!" Rolle hissed, practically jumping to get away. His entire body was alive with action, and all of it was focused on leaving this place.

"Not at all," Vladimir dismissed with magnanimous generosity. "You are our guest!"

_"Perhaps we should heed the boy," _Stefan said trying to discourage Vladimir from this course of action.

"Just there," Vladimir said to both of them, showing they were close to the door he desired, the one resident that he felt would answer all questions. He could not know it was not a _single_ mind creating Rolle's distress, but the concentration of the entire ward.

"Stop," Rolle insisted. "Please, stop, I can't... Too many. It's..."

Vladimir tightened his grip on Rolle's arm, dragging him now.

"Stop. _Stop._ STOP!" Rolle suddenly shouted. The rumbling noise that had accompanied his previous attacks roared instantaneously, without the slow crescendo they had noticed before, at the same moment Rolle wrenched his arm free.

Vladimir's grip on his arm vanished into swirling dust. Rolle stared at the dust and his mouth fell open in shock as a single reality slammed into him with the force of a runaway train: the man on the beach, Ehran, was not destroyed by the two ancient vampires at all. It was him. He had done it. He had killed Ehran. He had somehow murdered that man.

A scream of rage and pain split the air at the same instant his footsteps pounded down the hall in flight. Tendrils of dust curled in the vacuum created by his panicked escape. The inmates woke and added their screams to the uproar.

Stefan looked down at his brother. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

They had waited so long for their chance. They thought they had finally found the one thing that would begin to tip the stars in their favor against the Volturi, and yet Vladimir lay stunned on the old hardwood floor with Stefan's wide burgundy eyes staring down at him in disbelief.

The antediluvian looked down at his body. His left arm and shoulder were gone as well as half of his torso where they had been attached.

Their experiment had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Now, Rolle was escaping from them, but neither of the elders felt inclined to try to stop him.

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. And George!

Ce este acel zgomot?  
[What is that noise?]

Mami, ochii lui sunt atât de diferite  
[Mommy, his eyes are so different]

Gulag  
The government agency that administered the penal labor camps of the Soviet Union. The term is infamous for its association with remote places where prisoners were kept and sometimes disappeared.

Zonă Periculoasă Pacientului  
Dangerous Patient Zone

Antediluvian  
of or belonging to the period before the Flood. Gen. 7, 8.; a very old or old-fashioned person or thing.

**Reviews will help purchase a vampire prosthetic arm for Vladimir... So I've heard...**


	6. Chapter 6 With so much want of hope

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some IT chick. We've been asked by the author to remind readers that fanfiction is NOT just a hobby and that fish are not scary. Or maybe it was that keeping fish is not just a hobby and fanfiction is not scary. We don't know why you need to be reminded, but we find it easier to just go along with it with a nod and a smile.**

Check out my blog for updates, teasers, pic references and additional notes and comments about today's post... gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

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* * *

§∞•••∞§

**Chapter 6: W****ith so much mental suffering and want of hope**

**Paris**

Rolle walked past her hotel, knowing she wouldn't see him. He knew she would be trying to ignore the hurt she felt when he had to ignore her on the plane. She would try to get caught up on her work. She would shower, and she would try to sleep a bit to help her body adjust to the time zone. He stood across the street from her hotel and gazed up at the windows.

Something intruded from outside, and his gaze slowly slid away from the building, crawling over the faces of the people in the street. He passed over the woman intent on picking the pockets of tourists. He passed over the man deciding which train would get him to an event on time. He passed over another man considering options of how to entertain his children for the weekend. His gaze fell on a different man, an older man, who was walking toward him. This man was filled with lust but the tenor of him made Rolle's teeth clench as the man seemed hungry only for the young. In particular, girls not old enough for consent.

Rolle felt his stomach curl with anger. The man noticed Rolle's malevolent gaze and slowed his approach. The vampire's glare was intense, his lip curled into a snarl. The man quailed and quickly crossed the street, skirting away from Rachel's hotel.

Only when the man was out of sight did Rolle finally let his eyes drop away. He gasped and his hands started shaking. He stuffed them under his arms, but his entire body started to shake. He strode quickly to the hotel door and ducked inside. He found the stairs and raced up the steps four at a time until he reached the fifth floor.

He slipped out of the stairwell without a sound and found her room. He placed his hand over the door and knew she was asleep. He pressed his forehead to the door and concentrated on her.

A deep shuddering breath rushed past his lips. He winced as if in pain and forced himself to think only of Rachel, and Carlisle, Edward and Bella.

§∞•••∞§

Rachel woke from her nap and dressed for the cool weather, needing to wear herself out to adjust to Parisian time. She stopped at a small café for a baguette and coffee, sitting at a small outdoor table and ate for a while under a discreet awning. She watched the people walk by, protected from the London-like fog that fell. It was not quite mist and not quite rain. The damp weather was common for Paris at this time of year. Still, the people here were used to it and went on their business as if the sun was high in the sky and the streets were not shining with moisture.

She felt better having eaten and stood, intent on walking towards the river. She enjoyed the consistencies that defined Paris; the sound of the distinct sirens of the Gendarmerie, the overwhelming smell of baked butter from the patisseries, the sound of shoes clicking across the cobblestones, the statues standing watch from every building façade. The susurrus conversations in French permeated every inch of the city.

She walked past the gold, white and black of the Alexander Bridge and stepped around a couple at the rail who were wrapped up in each. She glanced at them, mentally replacing them in her mind as she crossed over the bridge, and imagined what this week might have been like if Italy did not exist.

She raised her eyes from the curb looking up the sidewalk and found herself focused on a man sitting on one of the riverside benches. He was leaning over with his elbows on his knees, his hands folded together as he contemplated the river sliding by. Her feet suddenly attached themselves to the damp sidewalk.

She knew that profile well after spending over eight hours glancing at it.

He'd obviously been sitting there for a while. The mist lay heavy over his hair making it look like beads of glass on platinum threads. He was wearing the same clothes he'd had on the plane and his shirt, now damp, clung to his shoulders and back.

Her immediate excitement at seeing him again rolled over and turned into a heavy lump. It was him. Rolle. Here. Not in Italy. _Here_. Rachel felt the stab of his lie.

Rolle sensed her staring at him and turned his head. Rachel blinked quickly, struggling to overcome the confusion that clouded her mind and trying to ignore the heated flush that rose over her neck and face. She willed herself to not give away every single emotional reaction she was having, but knew it was useless.

The lack of surprise in Rolle's eyes at seeing her there sped along her growing hurt. She replayed their time on the plane, going over every moment, every look, every touch. It all became tainted with the questions and doubts racing through her mind. If he lied about going to Italy, he hadn't wanted to let their time on the plane be anything more than that. Rachel began to question everything. Had he enjoyed their moment together? Had she let herself stupidly believe that it meant something to him as it had to her?

Until now she would have sworn they had shared something special. She would have cherished that memory with a secret smile until her death. She would have entertained the notion that he had felt the same way. Until now, but everything she felt was being shredded as he sat there looking at her. His mouth twitched into a frown and his eyes flicked away with guilt.

The gesture only fueled her doubts and a single word flashed into her mind at his demeanor: busted. Rachel felt a small morsel of unsatisfying relief that she could at least read him _this_ well.

Rolle continued staring at her and shifted his body, pressing with one leg, and slowly slid down the bench just enough to make room for her. He looked at her a moment, then glanced down at the seat he had cleared for her, and looked back up again in silent invitation.

Recognizing her emotional tumult, he watched her only long enough to know that she understood his intent, then looked down at his hands to let her make her own decision.

Rachel swallowed nervously, debating what to do. It did not take long. She needed to know why he had lied to her. The need to know pushed her forward.

She walked slowly to the bench, sat down, and placed her small purse next to her on the bench, giving herself a few more seconds to gather her thoughts and still her rapid breaths. She knew that playing nonchalant wouldn't work if her hands trembled and her voice shook.

"Wow," she said smiling for him. "Did your flight to Italy get cancelled?" The hurt was plain in her eyes, despite her attempt to hide it.

A smile with no humor touched his lips. "Not exactly," he said softly, leaning back against the bench. He did not look at her. "I didn't lie to you, though. Don't think I lied to you."

Rachel took a deep breath and slowly said, "Oh-kay." She attempted another smile but it, too, looked forced and awkward. "I'm just surprised to see you here. I'm sure you can understand how it's taking me a moment to figure this out."

"I know. I'm sorry. If I would have known sooner he'd react that way, I would have gotten your phone number or hotel before you went back to your seat," Rolle admitted, only partly lying now.

"I... I don't understand. Who is he? Why would he care if you got my phone number?" Rachel chewed her lip, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Rolle turned and looked at her. "What I mean is if I had known I'd have more time in Paris, that I would have asked you if I could have your phone number." He suddenly looked oddly shy. "I'm just glad you decided to do something touristy to make it easier for me to find you."

"Oh," she said, nodding as though she understood. She turned towards him. "Wait, you found _me_? Rolle, I don't... I'm sorry. I feel like I'm missing something. How did you find me all the way out here? How would you know where to look?" Rachel's excitement that he wanted to see her started to overshadow her confusion and he could hear it in her tone.

"I flipped a coin that you'd go to the tower or walk along the river." He held a nickel in the palm of his hand and offered it to her. "It came up tails. I just got lucky."

Rachel smiled, not only because it appeared he hadn't meant to mislead her, but also because she felt his need for levity. "You _did_ get lucky," she said suggestively.

"Rachel..." Rolle began slowly as he lowered his hand when she didn't take the nickel. "I'd really like to kiss you again." He looked at his lap. His shyness came back again in force. "Can I?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Did you need to ask me the first time?"

"You weren't mad at me and feeling hurt the first time," he admitted, glancing at her with a growing smile.

"Touché," she laughed, feeling easy with him as her entire body relaxed with his smile. The fact that he knew he'd hurt her feelings made a difference to her. She did not answer him, though, but just looked at him expectantly.

Rolle turned and leaned toward her, looking at her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. "You didn't answer me," he whispered as a single drop of water slipped down the side of his jaw from his hair.

Rachel wiped the droplet away with her fingers. "Yes, I did." She smiled and leaned into him, lightly pressing her lips to his. She hummed as he smiled against her. She brought her fingers to where their lips met and touched the side of his mouth. "Your lips are so cold."

He smiled again with a light in his eyes now, and held his hand out, palm up as if catching raindrops. "I've been sitting here a while," he said as an explanation. He examined her face again, thoughtfully this time. "I'm sorry I made you feel bad."

"I know," she nodded. "But I didn't feel very bad for very long." She nudged his lips with hers, urging him to kiss her some more.

He needed no more convincing than that and cupped the side of her neck with his hand, his thumb rubbing under her jaw as he kissed her, no more willing to let the moment end than she was. When he released her lips, he didn't go far.

"I don't know yet how long I'll be staying in Paris," he said. "But I'd be honored if I could spend that time with you."

"Really?" she said, sounding like an excited teenager. "I'd love that." Rachel looked behind him at the people walking on the bridge and chewed her lip. "Do you... want to come to my hotel? I think it's probably more comfortable than our last venue."

It was almost as if he couldn't stand to see her nervous about asking, and he took her face in both his hands and kissed her breathless. Her entire body seemed to go numb and limp, but somehow she managed to feel him nodding against her lips. "Please," he whispered into the kiss.

Rachel stood up, grabbing his hand in one of hers and picking up her purse with the other. "Let's go," she whispered, smiling. She felt a rush of boldness and pulled him flush against her as he stood. "And this time, I want you stretched out so I can see all of you."

Rolle groaned helplessly at her words and when Rachel turned to lead him back to her hotel, he stood firm and stopped her. She looked questioningly into his eyes and he lowered his hands to her hips, pulling her gently against him. He just looked at her a moment and his eyes held such tenderness and trust, it felt like he had erased every bit of her doubts since she'd left the plane. She watched him bring his lips to hers slowly, and his kiss was apologetic, then reverent, then needful. When he slid his hand into hers, finally ready to let her take him back to her room, the smile on his face made her grip his fingers and almost pull him along the sidewalk. Rachel heard him chuckle, but then wondered if the sound came from herself.

She retraced her steps with Rolle in tow walking a lot faster than the idle stroll she had used to get to the river. She couldn't stop herself from looking at him, checking to see it was really him attached to her hand. They walked around the couple tangled in each other on the bridge. Rachel felt a goofy grin on her face and felt him run his thumb along the inside of her palm. Their steps were faster as they passed the patisserie where she'd had her coffee and she realized now he had been on the bench waiting for her the entire time she was dawdling here. She checked again, and he was still there, looking at her. The expression on his face made her stomach flip over with excitement.

When they reached her hotel she pulled him through the foyer to the small elevator. Rolle pressed himself close behind her while they waited. He slid his hands over her waist and kissed her shoulder, his mouth slowly sliding toward her neck. When she felt his cool lips on her skin at the neck of her sweater, she impatiently jabbed the call button again. They could hear the damn thing several floors above them. When his lips pressed into her neck, she melted back against him, pressing her head back on his shoulder and her free hand against his thigh, squeezing it. When one of his hands slid down over the front of her hip and came back up under her sweater, her vision began to swim and she felt his legs behind hers, pressing her forward into the now waiting elevator. She hadn't heard it arrive.

"Push the button," he ordered muffled against her neck making her feel delicious things race along her body.

He pressed her into the side of the tiny elevator, capturing his own hand burrowed under her sweater against her breast and the wall. She turned her face to rest her cheek against the cool door and he took it as the invitation she was hoping he would.

"Nothing wrong with the last venue," he breathed into her ear as his tongue traced over her earlobe before sucking it into his mouth. She couldn't stop the loud groan that filled the elevator and she pressed her ass into the erection she knew she would find. His answering moan vibrated through her skull.

Rachel was trying to remember how to breathe. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with it. Oh, God." He had bent his knees and was grinding his cock low against the center of her ass.

"Oh, Christ, Rachel," he gasped suddenly, "make that sound again."

"What?" She had no idea what he was talking about until he pressed into her ass again as he did before. A whimpered cry had broken from her throat.

"Oh, God," he muttered, and she knew what sound he wanted then. "God."

Rachel slammed her hand against the elevator button again, willing it to go faster.

He spun her around to face him and she lunged into him just as the elevator doors disappeared behind him. The distance to his arms and lips increased as they staggered though the now open door. They practically fell across the hall and his back hit the wall with a huff and a moan before her lips finally connected with his. She clenched his hair in her hands to keep him from getting away again. Both of his hands gripped her ass, pulling her even tighter to him.

They weren't going to last long at this rate.

"Where?" he gasped between kisses.

She tripped over their tangled legs when she tried to take a step, unwilling to leave his lips long enough to answer him. She tried to guide him down the short hall to her door as she attempted to get the key out of her purse without letting go of him. With a growl that nearly made her faint, he wrapped his arms around her hips and lifted her up. She circled her legs and arms around his body, her hand now free to pull out the key. With the key in her fingers, she flapped her hand in the direction of the door.

Rolle carried her to the door and steadied her against the wall while she worked the key. After her third attempt to get the key in the lock, she snarled with frustration. Rolle stiffened against her with a gasp. Rachel smiled with this new knowledge of what he liked, and with only breath he chuckled, knowing that she now understood this.

He became still against her lips and she felt his fingers curl around hers holding the key. She peeked open her eyes to find his eyes open as well. She froze in this extreme proximity to his gaze, their lips touching. They were so close she could see the folds of color around his pupils: rays of white gold, and flecks of blue and gray like moonstone.

Without sparing a glance, he helped her guide the key into the lock. As the key slid in, his tongue passed over her lips. As they pressed the key into the lock together, he pressed his tongue against hers, his eyes still locked to hers. The locked turned gently with the key as his gentle kiss and probing tongue danced with hers. Rachel began to pant, feeling that kiss electrify every part of her. She knew she would never unlock a door again without thinking of him, thinking of this moment.

As the key opened the lock, so the lock opened the door. His eyes closed briefly and he swayed with panting grunts.

"I don't want you slow," Rachel breathed out fast and plunged her tongue into his cool, sweet mouth. She reveled in the sound of his groan.

She felt the air on her skin for a second and then the bed against her back before she heard the door slam shut behind them. Their frantic hands pulled and pushed and yanked their clothes out of the way. Their mouths met again, gasping and sloppy and fueled with a hunger she'd never felt before; as though she wanted to eat him and it seemed he felt the same way. The way his hands slid and pressed over her body made her almost uncomfortably wet until his grasping fingers found her and then it was the only comfort she had ever imagined needing. His hand pressed hard over her pubic bone and his fingers curled over her, cupping her. His moan deepened, becoming a groan and then something more feral like a growl as he moved his hand to cover the delicious hot, wet mound, pressing harder until he submerged his fingers through the yielding and now slippery skin.

Her entire body clenched with his touch and she accidentally bit his lip, hard. She felt his hand shake against her but he didn't even grunt in pain. She looked at him half kneeling, half lying over her as he stroked her moisture over his cock before bringing his hand up between them. He looked at his fingers a moment as if wanting to do something, but unable to decide. She grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to her mouth, licking the end of his fingers, tasting herself on him. She looked into his face as she sucked one into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the pad of his finger.

His mouth fell open and he gaped at her in surprise. She knew then that he hadn't expected her to do that, but as his face filled with hunger she knew that was what he wanted. She felt confident as his lover then, knowing that she could and would give him what he wanted, what he needed, and then she heard her own words in her head. As he dropped his mouth to hers and his tongue joined his finger in exploring her mouth, Rachel repeated them in her mind. His lover. She was his lover.

His tongue sought hers as his fingertip ran over her teeth a moment before stroking her tongue in the rhythm she wanted from him elsewhere over her body. She felt the evidence of his hunger resting against her hip.

_Me_, she thought. _He is hungry for me. He came looking for me! _

The aching need she had for him now was almost painful and she took matters, literally, into her own hands. She gripped his cock hard with one hand, pushed his hip over her with the other. Rachel bit down on his finger and then used the one tool she now knew would undo him: she whimpered a long and pitiful sound of impatient desire.

It worked.

His cock jerked in her hand as she felt the muscles in his stomach crunch together. She quickly guided him to her as she wrapped her legs around him hard, squeezing him with all her strength to show him how she wanted him to take her. He complied instantly, driving himself into her sex without hesitation. She gasped as he filled her completely.

Rolle's startled and desperate groan filled the room. Like a square wheel trying to roll, something in his psyche fell awkwardly and forcefully through him.

"What are you doing to me?" he gasped, still leaning in, pressing with his entire body. "Unh, God."

"More, more," Rachel gasped. "Fuck me, Rolle. Do it."

He pulled out of her entirely and drove in. She grunted at the sensation of instant change from being empty to completely filled, stretched to capacity. She felt him shift slightly over her, coming to his knees and his hands gripped the linens beside her head. He used this leverage to lunge himself into her again and the force of it pushed her farther up onto the bed. Each time she gasped. Each time it drove the breath from her. Each time her body inched across the mattress with the force of him.

"Don't you feel that?" he growled. "Can't you feel me?"

"Yes, God, yes." She couldn't breathe enough to make words for him.

"You can't," he insisted, driving in even harder. "I can't hear it."

She wanted to laugh, but there was nothing funny about how he was making her feel. He heard her then. He heard exactly what she was feeling: the surprise, the completion, the ecstasy that was ripping her apart every time he entered her.

When she felt the headboard press against her hair, she reached up and pressed her hands against it to keep herself from retreating from his plunging attacks. Each time they came together, she learned more about what he liked. He liked the sounds she made more than having her speak. As she listened to the sounds he made now, she began to understand what he loved about _her_ sounds because she could have listened all day to the sounds he made, especially when she clenched her muscles around his cock as he withdrew. She found she could take more of him by raising her hips as he hurtled into her and by pressing up with her hands against the headboard she could get a greater force with his advance. In a frenzy of motion, one of his hands swept under her ass, raising her slightly as he slid forward into her again, now pushing with his feet to get even deeper inside her.

He bellowed loudly as his orgasm triggered her own. Her hands pressed harder against the headboard, wanting to embed him within her as her legs and sex held him tightly in place with spasms so hard she could feel every muscle in her hips clutching at him over and over again. With each spasm she felt him twitch deep within her, which triggered another spasm and another pulse. He cried out again, trying to burrow himself even further into her and her cry joined his when her own orgasm would not end. She suddenly had the presence of mind to wonder how this would end — _w__hen_ this would end. She was amazed that she even had time to think such a thing. She had never in her life experienced a single orgasm that went on for so long. Her entire body began to spasm and the last thought she had was that maybe this wasn't one orgasm, but a series of powerful orgasms all in succession, and then she couldn't think of anything any more. The last thing she registered was the ice chips in his eyes and then a soft blanket of darkness encompassed her.

§∞•••∞§

**Volterra, Italy**

The world slowly awoke with dim hues of blue. Dawn would break in only five minutes, but this time of day was always his most somber. As the birds began to wake and sing, the wind stirred pollen through the air in a microscopic ballet that only a vampire could appreciate. It had been _her_ favorite time. She would call him to the nearest window each time, almost giddy with excitement about the beauty of the colors in the sky as the masking blues gave way to their true colors.

"I always loved the color of your eyes," she would whisper to him, wrapping her arms around his and pulling herself close to him. "They were just so," she said, looking out at the courtyard to indicate the color she meant. "I'm happy to have not lost them."

Marcus dropped his chin to his chest, avoiding the sight, avoiding the blue, avoiding her memory.

The gray Mercedes crawled over the ancient cobblestones of the town square and into a narrow ramp across the sidewalk. It stopped before the gates of a vaulted arch and waited patiently. A moment later, the heavy wooden doors opened, allowing them to pull into the private parking area within the walls. Two figures — one tall, the other not — were dressed in black and stepped out of a side door. The taller, thinner man remained behind while the other came forward and opened the door for Marcus.

"Sergei," Marcus greeted quietly.

"Welcome back, Marcus," Sergei said. "They're waiting for you in the library."

Sergei's dark curly hair framed a handsome face and strong jaw. His sideburns were longer than was readily acceptable in this day and age, but were a trademark of the time whence he came. He was also short for a man of today, but he had been considered tall in his mortal life eons ago when nutrition dictated human growth.

Marcus gave a nod to the driver who was pulling out his small travel bag, as he thanked Sergei. The taller guard at the door held it open for him. This man was thin and wiry. His features were well-manicured and not as rough or masculine as Sergei's, but his eyes were sharp and intelligent.

"Thomas," Marcus acknowledged. "My papers?"

"In your chambers," Thomas answered.

"Anything to report?" was Marcus' curt request.

"Nothing of note," Thomas answered, taking out a small note pad. "A report of a serial killer in Bucharest. Probably the Romanians again."

"You informed Aro?"

"Yes, as you ordered," Thomas answered obediently. "I also reported some unusual activity in Novosibirsk, Siberia that could be werewolf. Aro sent Fiona and Lydia to investigate."

Thomas frowned and a mask of hesitation fell over his features. "I'm also sorry to report that another newspaper is discontinuing their print and delivery service," he murmured.

Marcus' feet rooted to the stone floor. Thomas almost walked into him after the sudden stop. "Which one?" came the flat and tired question.

"Yomiuri," Thomas told him. "They are going to a fully online subscriber base."

"Like all the rest," Marcus muttered, pursing his lips and walking on.

"Aro once again has offered to provide a computer in your chambers so you may keep looking for those who are remiss in our laws."

"Yes, yes," Marcus waved him off with a tired hand.

Once upon a time, it had been his job to meet with various tribal runners to garner news. Later, it was traveling minstrels, then sailors. It was a relief when the printed word meant he could avoid these necessary inconvenient meetings with humans. Now, however, as the world continued to change, he found he would regret the loss of newspaper as it gave way to electronic print. There was something soothing in the tactile feel of the oddly gray paper and the acrid smell of its ink. Like so many things in their unremitting lives, electronic media was fleeting and insubstantial.

Marcus' lifeless expression seemed to grow even bleaker as yet another corporeal piece of his existence vanished into ever growing void of antiquity.

Together they turned up the stairs and headed to the library in silence. The cool dampness of the stone went unnoticed by them, as did the sound of their echoing footsteps across the floor. The echo failed when they rounded a corner at the top of the stairway and continued up a hall that was lined with tapestries. When they reached the library door, Thomas reached in front of Marcus to push it open for him. The two Volturi brothers within turned to watch them enter. Renata, Aro's personal guard, was not present. Neither was Caius' shadow, Claudio. Marcus stopped and waved away Thomas without a word.

"Marcus!" Aro cried softly in happy greeting. He crossed the floor with his arms wide in greeting

Marcus kept his face fixed knowing this was more than just a welcome home. He held his arms out slightly, just enough to return the invitation. It was silent acknowledgement that Aro could read his thoughts without issue.

He was embraced as if they'd been apart for years. Aro wrapped his arms around Marcus' shoulders and pulled him close, holding him as if he would hold a dearly beloved brother. Marcus simply raised his hands and lightly patted Aro's back before dropping his hands long before Aro released him.

Aro pulled back and held him by the shoulders at arms length. There was surprise and delight in his face. "Boring trip?" he asked with a sarcastic grin.

Caius snorted at the comment and rose with a sneer. "What did you find?" he asked with a flip of his head to swing a black sheet of hair out of the way.

"Where are dear Felix and Demetri?" Aro asked, turning slowly to Caius.

Caius' eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What has this to do with Carlisle?" he asked sharply, but did not hesitate to offer an answer. "Felix is in Sicily. Demetri is tracking a rogue newborn."

Aro's face lit up with glee. "I beg to differ with you, my dear brother," he said, gesturing Marcus to a chair. "It would seem our wayward fellow has taken it upon himself to advance himself in your eyes."

Caius fell cautiously silent, looking between Aro and Marcus. The old vampire master knew when to let the scene unfold, and Aro would not be able to stand holding back juicy tidbits of information.

Aro rested a guiding hand on Marcus' shoulder, encouraging him to share his findings. Aro turned a level gaze on Caius as Marcus sighed.

"I walked into a very unexpected scene when I arrived at Carlisle's compound. A young protégé of mine that I thought long absent was accosting Carlisle in a deadly manner. The boy's name is Rolland and he claimed to be defending me from Carlisle; that he had disposed of another vampire that was threatening me, and that he had heard of Carlisle's threat. He took it upon himself to act on these rumors in order to defend me."

The telling of this saga seemed to weary him and Marcus slowly dropped into a nearby chair. As he moved, Aro's hand remained in the air when it had been on Marcus' shoulder. Aro slowly and deliberately brought the arm across his chest and folded his arms there, looking squarely at Caius.

"This was exactly what we agreed to avoid." Aro's voice was low and tight. "Your scrupulous and well-timed rants have begun a whisper campaign against Carlisle. You have sown action into the guard as they begin to jockey for favor."

"We _all_ agreed that action should be taken," Caius responded, bored. "What does it matter what form it takes?"

Aro's eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared. "_We_ did not agree that Carlisle would be harmed," he said. "_We_ agreed to remain on good terms. _We_ agreed to investigate. Now _we_ have vampires not even under our control launching attacks against him."

Caius shrugged. "A means to an end."

"What end?" Aro challenged. "We know nothing! And we have now created doubt and suspicion in dear Carlisle and his family."

"Possibly not," Marcus added softly.

Aro reigned in his frustration as he looked to Marcus to explain his claim.

Before he could, Caius demanded suspiciously, "What protégé is this you talk about? I know of no...." He broke off suddenly and gaped at his brother. Though Aro knew instantly who Marcus was referring to, Caius had to draw on his memory of conversations past. There was only one childe that Marcus created who was unaccounted for. "The American boy?" he whispered amazed. "The tracker??" He spun and leveled a pointing finger at Aro. "Ahh! Just as I predicted! Carlisle must have summoned him."

Marcus shook his head, but directed his answer to Aro. "Your Edward would have known my shock at discovering Rolland again after all this time. I saw nothing but hatred and mistrust from them all toward him. Even Edward's young wife was lit with anger."

Aro looked quickly between his two brothers. "Is this the same boy of the rumors?" he asked, inquiring about the legend that had arisen in the past sixty years of a vampire assassin.

"I saw no reason to believe so," Marcus sighed. The forgotten emotion of annoyance once again crossed his face. His childe was a disappointment on many levels. "There was nothing extraordinary in his attack on Carlisle."

"But the manner in which he was able to find _you_ was extraordinary," Caius pointed out. "He was exactly the tracker you knew he could be."

"What of Demetri then?" Aro asked. "He was not nearby to attack Marcus surely."

"You tell me!" Caius retorted with a sneer. "You have better way of knowing than I."

"He has been and always will be your lap dog, Caius," Aro said as if stating the sun would rise in the morning. "His only agenda has been to please you in whatever manner he could manage."

Aro crossed the room and sat in an elegant wingback chair and crossed his legs. "So what of him, Marcus? Your young Rolland claims to have eliminated Demetri? Do you think it is true? And if so, could it be possible that he is then indeed the one the rumors are about? After all, Demetri is no easy target."

Marcus shook his head, his eyes closing wearily. "I don't know. All I can answer for fact is that Rolle claimed to be protecting me; he attacked one of Carlisle's childer before attacking Carlisle himself; and that they were all happily rid of the boy with notions of retaliation if he did not leave quickly."

"Rolle...?" Caius muttered curiously at Marcus' use of the tracker's diminutive name.

"We must have confirmation of _Rolle's_ claim," Aro stated being sure to use the same name Marcus had used for his progeny. "We cannot send anymore to Nova Scotia to investigate, though. I'll need to see this tracker myself."

"Where is the boy now?" Caius asked, wanting to get answers from the boy himself as well.

Marcus looked from Aro to Caius, knowing Aro already knew the answer, and the reason for it. "I left him behind in Paris."

"Apparently, our young friend has been left untamed for too long," Aro answered with a gleam in his eye. "As with any childe, they grow rebellious and head-strong without a firm hand."

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted, and thanks to George.

Childer  
(obsolete, dialectical) Plural form of child  
en (dot) wiktionary (dot) org/wiki/childer

Yomiuri  
a Japanese newspaper published in Tokyo, founded in 1874  
en (dot) wikipedia (dot) org/wiki/Yomiuri_Shimbun

**Reviews will give you a sneek peek into how, exactly, Rolle was able to do the one thing that tortured Edward for so long... So I've heard...**


	7. Chapter 7 When the faithful question

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some gal who drives a Subaru covered with stickers. We don't know why she drives it, but after reading some of the stickers, we kinda get that she has a bizarre sense of humor.**

Check out my blog for updates, teasers, pic references and additional notes and comments about today's post... gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

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**Chapter 7: When the faithful question**

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

The air was still as the shadows lengthened into dusk. Only the speed of their passing stirred the ravaged leaves of the brush and trees. They leapt over fallen trees and broken limbs without a sound. Edward held his pace to Carlisle's as they slipped through the undergrowth and debris left from the hurricane. They raced past prey that was too small to bother with. Porcupines, raccoons and fisher fled back into their nests and dens.

They came upon a small herd of whitetail deer, but Edward heard no change of focus from Carlisle as they approached and then passed the herd. They continued to run, ignoring the damp that began to accumulate on their clothes as they ran through the still rain soaked landscape. At the scent of a coyote pack, however, they veered together. Edward and Carlisle fell on the pack and all seven animals dropped before they even registered there were intruders.

Edward drank slowly, glancing at Carlisle as he fed. He watched his father and mentor, admiring his precision and care with his prey. Carlisle's approach to the kill was as different from the rest of them as it possibly could be. His humanity prevented him from toying with his prey as Emmett did. Unlike Jasper who leapt onto his prey alive and fed until the animal dropped, Carlisle found no joy in the kill, only the necessity of it. Even the women were more vicious in the manner of their hunts. Carlisle's approach was simple and quick, and because of his skill it was disconcerting, even to another vampire's eyes, how quickly the quarry fell when Carlisle was hunting, as if his presence alone caused the animal's death.

Carlisle finished with one animal and moved to a second before Edward finished his first. Seeing his father's hunger, Edward took his time and only moved to the second coyote when Carlisle finished his third. When that animal was drained as well, Edward waved Carlisle to the last.

Edward leaned away from the kill and watched Carlisle finish. "It's not like you to ignore your hunger like this," he said quietly, as he recalled Carlisle's words to him as a newborn encouraging him to keep himself well-fed to help fight off temptations.

Carlisle did not look up. He watched his hand stroke over coyote's pelt instead. "I suppose not," he answered softly.

When he offered no more explanation, Edward crossed his legs Indian-style, signaling that he expected a long talk. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," came the reply

"You're quiet. Even your thoughts," Edward pointed out, hearing only his own words echoing back through Carlisle's mind. "It's like your mind is empty."

_Is it?_ Carlisle's mind seemed to ask itself. "I suppose it is."

Edward's concern grew when he continued to hear nothing. The blankness was like a void of apathy. "Carlisle," he whispered, "whatever this is has been building in you for a long time."

With a heavy sigh, Carlisle ran his hand over his head.

"Esme is worried about you," Edward continued to urge him.

"I know," Carlisle confessed.

Heartened by even this small admission, Edward pressed his advantage. "You've never kept things from us like this, and you know we can all see it eating at you."

_I'm sorry about what I said earlier. _ Carlisle let the apology float to his gifted son. _I never meant to question your judgment in friends._

"I know," Edward replied, shaking his head, "but this..." he paused, unwilling to label it, "depression," he added low, "was eating at you long before Rolle came."

The small motion Carlisle made was both a nod of agreement as well as an admission.

"It was Montreal, wasn't it," Edward asked rhetorically.

Carlisle stroked the pelt of the coyote again. _I don't think I know how to come to terms with it._ Images flooded his mind of the victims of that horrific attack, blending with the images of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon from the attacks in 2001. Those images blurred together with a flurry of images of battered women, beaten children, wounded soldiers, and a bevy of murder victims.

As Carlisle looked over the coyote pack, he was struck with the irony that he, a vampire, cared more about human life than the humans gifted with it. His thoughts turned to Edward and how he struggled against taking Bella's life, even though he loved the idea of her life more than his own and couldn't survive without her. Even Rolle, who was never taught different, carried over that respect for life into what he became. The assassin valued life and thought himself damned for his sins in his mortal life. These vampires had more regret about killing than humans did.

"Not all people are like that, Carlisle," Edward reminded him.

"We don't know what anyone is really like until you put them in a situation desperate enough," he replied quickly.

Edward leaned forward. "What happened at the hospital that day? Please," he begged, "let me help."

Carlisle ran a hand over the back of his neck and raised his eyes to Edward without raising his head. The worry and love in his son's eyes could not be mistaken. In a flash, he recalled all the time he had comforted Edward, helped him adjust to this life, and Carlisle felt the overwhelming paradox of a parent-figure who suddenly realizes their child can shoulder burdens, even as he recognized that Edward was already a man in his world when he was turned.

Edward nodded once in encouragement.

_For all those who rise above their fear to become heroes, there are many more who cannot,_ Carlisle thought and he swallowed hard as a tightness formed around his eyes and mouth. A picture formed in his mind of two small children: twins. They looked about three-years old — a boy and a girl with brown curly hair and smiling green eyes. As Carlisle remembered that day, Edward felt himself pulled into the memory as if he were there himself; captured in the perfect memory of a vampire's clarity...

~•~

...He walked into the elevator foyer that separated the garage from the hospital's main entrance and spied the odd little family immediately. The father was a non-descript man in his early thirties who would have been overlooked if not for the two young creatures running about his feet. The boy was dressed in a brown and orange outfit that came over the top of his head in the shape of an animal snout. The girl was dressed in a pink dress with sparkles and a tiara on her head.

Carlisle smiled at the sight and continued to his office. He saw them again in the clinic as he picked up charts, and later again in the hall as he made his way past the cafeteria.

"Whoa, there!" Carlisle laughed as two laughing children plowed into his knees.

"Emmett Michael! Emily!" called a man's scolding voice. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's quite all right," Carlisle assured, then looked down at the children. "Did Halloween sneak up on me again?" he asked the children.

"No, this is magic day," the girl, Emily, answered.

"Magic day?" Carlisle asked with a grin. "So you're dressed up like a fairy?"

"Noo," Emmett cried on his sister's behalf. "She's a pwincess."

"A princess? Are you sure? She looks like Tinkerbell," Carlisle argued back.

"Noo," both children cried together, then Emily explained, " Tinkahbell has wings!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Carlisle said gravely. "And what are you, young man? A cow?"

"No, I'm a jerass," he said proudly.

Carlisle blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a jerass!" Emmett said again.

"He's a jerass," Emily repeated.

Carlisle opened his mouth in dismay. "A-a jerass?" he asked.

"No! Jer - ASS!" Emmett said slowly.

Carlisle could not stop himself from laughing as the father took pity on him and explained.

"He's a giraffe," the father explained. "Still having a little trouble pronouncing his effs."

"Oh!" Carlisle couldn't help himself. He looked back at the boy and asked, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be a cow?" thinking he could save the father some embarrassment.

He was mistaken.

The boy fairly shouted, "NO, I'M A JERASS!"

Half the bystanders in the hall turned to look. Carlisle clapped his hand over his mouth in horror and delight.

Emily reached out and tugged on Carlisle's sleeve. "Are you a doctuh?"

"Yes, I am," he said, still smiling.

"Cuz we see'd a seagull outside and it was dead," she continued.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Carlisle said, immediately falling back into the role of comforting doctor.

"Do you know what happened to him?" the girl asked in all seriousness.

Carlisle masked his concern and glanced at the child's father, unsure how he'd prefer a doctor to answer such a delicate question.

"The seagull died and went to heaven, honey," the father answered kindly.

Emmett turned to him and earnestly asked, "Did God throw him back down then?"

Carlisle bit his lips to keep from smiling.

Emily reached out and hit her brother. "You gotta call him by his name, you turkey butt."

"Emily!" the father scolded. "Don't call your brother names."

"How do you know what his name is?" Emmett challenged, phased neither by being hit nor being called names.

"Cuz they said so in church when we'd was praying wiss da teachah," Emily said, enjoying the attention of the three men around her. "Our ssadder who does art in heaven, Hawold is his name. Amen!"

Emmett tilted his head. "God's name is Hawold?" he asked sincerely confused.

Carlisle could not stop himself this time and stood back laughing.

There was no warning when it happened — no distant rumble, no shuddering floors, no sound except those from Carlisle's delighted laughter at the children. Then the whole world exploded.

The world around them ripped itself apart and vomited itself into the open hall. The floors weren't there anymore. Light didn't exist. Fire enveloped everything. The only thing that remained was the hideous sounds of concrete screaming in agony. Large chunks of the building's flesh rent itself from its body, fell inward, shot outward, collapsed under its own weight, and folded in on itself as if its bones suddenly disintegrated.

A smothering sensation overwhelmed everything. There was no thought, no sight, no sound, no feeling but for total, absolute, blinding fear that ripped through flesh and severed bodies. Frantic clawing fingers seized futilely at the shifting and decaying flesh of the building as it turned to dust before their blinded eyes.

And the world fell away.

Dust and glass showered them as they plummeted through the debris, becoming one with the girders and masonry and wood... burnt and rent and crushed under the weight of tons of rubble. Water pipes burst, rupturing their life's blood onto whatever passed in its fount. Gas mains ruptured outrageously, spitting their fiery venom in a kaleidoscopic breath of light and heat. It became a bizarre and hideous game of paper, rocks and scissors: fire beats paper, water beats fire, rock beats everything.

Then the world turned itself inside out.

The noise was unending; a thunderstorm that couldn't spend itself, rumbling, rolling, never stopping. Down, down, down, it all tumbled, spilled, smashed. Twisting, tearing, crushing in its haste. Movement began to stop for some, continued for others. Everything piled upon itself and slowed. Slowly, after what felt like days, a dangerous and precarious balance was reached until there was nothing left to do. The fuel had been spent. The energy potential had been used.

And the rest was silence.

The only sound was the crackle of the gas fires; the hiss of falling dust; the odd pebble tumbling to its resting place between the cracks. And then the screaming began...

Dazed by the blast but unharmed, Carlisle pushed himself free. He was covered in soot and blood from an unknown source. Coughs and painful cries of fear filled the air. Carlisle found he was panting and tried to make himself stop. Rubble continued to spill down on him.

He heard the faint cry of a child. _The children!_ Powerful and frantic hands began pushing away concrete and girders. There was movement around him. A few gray lumps of debris awkwardly separated itself from the rubble in the shape of people covered in dust. They were as pale as Carlisle himself, slowly and painfully rising from the destruction. Tears and blood streaked their bodies, but Carlisle continued to dig to find the children hoping they were close, hoping they were all right. He dug further. As the wreckage shifted the cries grew less obstructed, a girl's cries.

"Emily!" Carlisle shouted to her.

His hand pressed into soft powdered fake fur. As he touched it, the dust rose to reveal a brown and bronze spot. The body under the fur was lifeless. Carlisle's hand felt no life, no pulse, no blood coursing beneath the skin. A warm wetness seeped into the material under his fingertips.

"No," Carlisle gasped. He heard the cries again as one of the ashen faces became recognizable in his peripheral vision as that of the father. "Here!" he called to the man. "They're here!"

The father rose from the rubble, his eyes wide and unseeing.

"Help me!" Carlisle yelled to him.

Another smaller explosion nearby shifted debris again, and the man lurched up and bolted away.

"Stop!!" Carlisle shouted after him in shock. _"Stop!" _The muffled cries from the debris called him back from his appalled dismay as the children's father fled for his life.

Though his hands dug into the poisonous rubble, his eyes could not stop replaying the shameless flight he had just witnessed. A father! Leaving his children in their greatest moment of need? Concrete crumbled under his powerful fingers as he dug. _Maybe the man wasn't their true father? Maybe he was a stepfather?_ Carlisle's mind tried to understand. _They were only babies!_ Was it only a moment ago he was laughing at them?

_Our father who does art in heaven..._ Carlisle began their prayer. _Harold is his name..._ Something pink-gray appeared under a ceiling tile_. Thy kingdom come, they will be done... _The cries were getting weaker. _On earth as it is in heaven..._ Emily's face appeared, her hair matted with blood. _Give us this day our daily bread..._ Carlisle heaved an iron pipe off her and out of the debris. _And forgive us... forgive us..._ Emily's hand was clutched around her brother's.

"Daddy?" she asked, and she was gone...

~•~

...Carlisle sat across from the man he thought of as his own son and shook his head. "I saw him, that man, outside later, laying amongst the other victims. The others were weeping as they pleaded for news of their loved ones, but not him."

Edward's face was tight with emotion he could barely contain. He remembered the unusually emotional way Carlisle had greeted Emmett as they packed to leave Montreal. He saw now the names of the children in Carlisle's mind as he scanned the paper listing the victims of that black day: Emily Michelle and Emmett Michael.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he whispered.

"I didn't want Esme to think I was able to share it with you, but not with her. I couldn't... Children... I couldn't put her through that, not after all she had lost before we found her."

Carlisle's mind once again pictured _their_ Emmett, unconscious on the ground; his severed arm lying away from his body. Edward shuddered at the connection Carlisle made between the two namesakes.

"A father protects his children," Carlisle whispered.

§∞•••∞§

**Paris, France**

Rolle slid his fingers across her temple and brow, and waited. Rachel rolled her head away from his hand and into the cool smooth touch of his lips. Her sigh turned into a hum as she pressed into his gentle caress. He pressed a kiss at the corner of her eye.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

She hummed again at the comfort his voice held and rolled her body toward his, taking a deep breath as she felt the length of his entire body against her own, right down to her toes curling slowly against his.

"Rachel," he whispered, his hands traveling slowly over her back and ribs.

"Mmm," was the only word she could form.

"Can you come back to me, honey?" he asked. He trailed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm.

She smiled at his endearment. "Did I go somewhere?" she murmured.

He pressed his lips to her brow, dragging his nose along her forehead to her temple. "Kinda." His answer confused her but she felt him smile against her temple.

"Mmm," she answered again, running her hand over his chest. "Rolle?"

He ran his fingers between hers with a feather-like caress. "Yeah?" he whispered.

"Did you call me honey?" she asked with a smile.

He pursed his lips against her temple. "Yeah." Then he paused and quietly asked, "Is that okay?"

She squeezed closer to him, sliding her leg between his with a slow sigh. "Yeah."

"How do you feel?" he asked, nuzzling his nose against her ear.

"Glorious," she purred with a stupid smile on her face that she hoped he was too close to really see.

"Mmm," he hummed, his hands moving over her hip and thigh. Then he said the words that almost made her come. "Can I have you again?" he asked as his hand came up to trace the outer curve of her breast.

She raised her eyes to look into his. His eyes were smiling back at her, but they weren't, not entirely. He wasn't unhappy, either. He knew what he wanted, but he looked unsure. He wanted her, but his expression confused her; as if he thought he shouldn't, or maybe he didn't think he had the right to ask.

Regardless of what was going on in _his_ head, Rachel knew she wanted him again. She couldn't have him hard like that again, not yet, but by his light touches and kisses, she could tell that wasn't what he had in mind. She found it erotic that he actually _had_ something in mind for them.

In their short time together, she had noticed his eyes were usually unfocused with whatever thoughts he had, but when his eyes were clear there was such depth and directness in them that they captured her. Sometimes when they were clear he would look at her with such an incredibly deep attention that it somehow felt quiet and private.

"I'm glad you decided to walk along the river," he whispered, twining his ankle with hers.

The left corner of her mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. "So am I," she breathed.

He leaned forward across the pillow and pressed his lips to hers as his eyes slid closed. Rachel missed his eyes instantly. There was something like gratitude in his kiss, but there was also a deep respect and longing as well. The caressing touch was slow and tender, matching the tenor of his hand over her waist. She closed her eyes and put her hand on his hip as she kissed him back.

He opened his mouth and touched the tip of his tongue to her lips. She didn't hesitate at his invitation and her own lips parted, the tip of her tongue ever so lightly tracing a circle around the tip of his. His foot caressed hers, his hand moved over her back and shoulder to come to rest over her upper arm. Every nerve came alive, sensing every nuance of his touch as she waited for his next cue as to where he would take them.

He deepened the kiss slowly and she savored the returning pressure, the gentle inquisitive sips of her tongue with his. It was so different from just a moment ago that her foot started making slow curling motions against his leg. Something in him seemed to break loose and she could feel exhaustion pour off him as some unseen tension in his body released as if cut loose. Rachel wanted to go on kissing him like this indefinitely. There was something innocent and trusting in his kiss. Their kiss was only a dancing of tongues, lips barely touching, tasting each other, pressing back and forth.

The fire that had been burning in her came to life under this tender assault and her breathing hitched. She knew Rolle recognized it and he changed the tone of the kiss to something even more seductive.

Rachel ran her hand lightly against his chest to rest over his neck, her fingers threaded through his hair behind his ear. He traced her ribs until the tips of his fingers reached the curve of her breast and she gasped into his open mouth making him sigh.

Rolle was fascinated with the curve of her shoulder, intricately tracing the point where it connected with her collarbone before following the line of it to her neck. His fingers track over her jaw to her chin and then to the corners of her mouth where he lingered, touching their kissing lips.

He seemed nothing like the confident lover from the plane nor the half-crazed eager lover who toppled out of the elevator with her. When he looked down at her his expression cut her in half: confused, lost, needy. He reached down and urged her up into his arms, rolling her over until he was laying over her.

His breath still stuttered and his agitated eyes searched her face looking for something. Rachel raised her hands to his cheeks to still him and looked back at him sure and even. It took a moment but he calmed under her level gaze and the confusion faded. When he could look back at her without faltering Rachel slowly realized he had been having a panic attack. He expelled one last shaking breath and his eyes cleared again.

Rachel rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks, slowly petting him, calming him. Locked in her gaze, Rolle shifted his hips to settle between her legs again. He lowered his face to hers. Rachel let his head slip between her hands so her fingers ran through his hair, guiding him to her lips. When they touched he stilled again, just like he had done at the door. This time Rachel opened her eyes to see what he was doing and stared into the blue and gray flecked ice in his eyes that mesmerized her all over again. She almost did not hear him as he whispered against her lips.

"Can I... make love to you?" He pressed his lips to hers. "Can I try? Please?"

Rachel kissed him slowly wrapping her calves around his thighs. His cock slid against her, but he still didn't press into her. "Rolle," she whispered. He parted his lips and kissed her with quiet hunger, but his body did not shift.

He kissed down her jaw to her throat and let his lips rest there. "Say it. Rachel, please," he whispered to her neck. "I can't... take. I don't want to take." He let his hand graze down her side and his palmed her hip while he propped his weight on his elbow next to her neck. "Can I have you? Like that?"

Rachel's chest clenched at the pain in his plea and bit her cheek to keep the emotional choke inside her throat. She had never been with anyone who was so incredibly intense, but also tender, and maybe... damaged: beautiful and wounded.

"Please," she whispered, hoping that he would hear in that word what she heard when he said it to her: hunger, need, lust. She rocked her hips up, rubbing herself along his length. "I want you... _please_."

He exhaled and nodded once: a combination of defeat and relief. He twisted his hips and hovered over her where he felt her body ready to take him in, advancing forward in the most painfully slow increments. It was such a different feeling, coming together like this, than it had been when they first got back to the room. He didn't watch her eyes. She knew without asking that it was too much for him. He buried his face against her neck and inhaled deeply, shivering.

"Oh, yes," she murmured. She let him set the pace but it was achingly slow. Torturous. She felt her heart hammering in her chest and he pressed his lips closer to her neck, his tongue taking a soft swipe at her pulse point.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, he stilled, filling her completely. Rachel shuddered, a jarring motion that only emphasized how deep he had filled her.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, moving his head up to look at her.

Rachel nodded and her eyes rolled closed as she lifted her hips to encourage him. "Rolle," she whispered. "Please."

'Please' had become their soundtrack, an unnecessary word offered as currency for what they both wanted in this moment.

He slowly rocked into her, watching her reaction. Rachel watched the slow movement of his body, felt the steady building of pressure with his advance sliding deep and slow into her. Her hands slid lightly over his chest, then up around his ribs, stroking his sides. She felt his down stroke as an aching emptiness.

"More," she whispered, begging.

"_This_," he countered with a whispered hiss.

Rachel couldn't stop herself and whimpered. His eyes flew open and burned with hunger. A low growl echoed in his chest and he pulled out entirely before pressing slowly into her again with a low guttural moan. She could tell by the determined look in his eyes that he knew that she understood his weakness.

This time he fought against the raw hunger she stirred in him. He hated himself for needing _this_; a connection to something tender and gentle, and everything it represented to his barren existence.

Rachel wrapped her legs around him as she caressed his back and shoulders. She couldn't touch him enough, even with his chest pressed to hers she wanted more of him. She writhed against him trying to pull him closer in any way she could.

He continued like that, pulling all the way out of her and slowly sinking back in. Rolle trembled, his muscles straining, as he leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers, capturing her lip between his own. Something shifted in him then and his breathing changed. It wasn't the synchronized panting of a man overcome with passion. It was the staggered breathing of a man overcome with some unidentifiable emotion. He moved so slowly and deliberately in her that her head began to spin again, each stroke both longer and slower than the one before, caressing her in the most intimate way. Rachel began to recognize every millimeter of the connection between them, feel his skin pulled taught within her.

As Rolle struggled, she began to realize that this was different for him. It wasn't passion now. He was afraid of this. The sound of his breath was the panting sound of a person doing something that scared the life out of them.

That sound broke her heart.

Rachel pressed against his shoulder and his chin dropped to his chest. He moved heavily. Rachel tried to see his face, pressing his shoulder back to make him look at her. What she could see from the side of his face was that his expression was crumpled in sadness.

Rolle shifted his weight to the side as if he would release her when Rachel suddenly realized he thought she was trying to push him away... and he was going to let her.

"No," she gasped, locking her legs around him, stunned at his reaction and frantic to know what had happened to him. What could have done this to such a tender soul? Why was he so tormented, so alone?

Rachel rolled on top of him, not allowing him slip from her. Rolle looked up at her with a flurry of questions and confusion in his eyes until he realized she wasn't pushing him away. Rachel's eyes softened as she took control of whatever was frightening him, keeping his pace and rubbing her body against his.

Rolle pressed his cheek to hers. Her tenderness disarmed him. Her compassion pierced through his hollow chest and let the pain leak out as nothing had done since the day he lost his true love. She was a catharsis, if only for a moment in time, easing decades of aching acceptance of who and what he was; and why he was eternally damned. This was an angel lost in his world, spreading drops of forgiveness on the parched and dead earth.

She forgave him.

His breath hitched in his throat. Though he knew he could not cry, Rachel heard him and understood. She couldn't stand his pain any more, and it brought tears to her own eyes, knowing that his need for the connection was beyond understanding. Rolle pressed his lips to her cheek as she cried for him. When she reached up to wipe the tears away, he caught her wrist and dried her cheek with his own, rubbing his nose against hers to erase the drop that slid down.

He kissed her then with such reverence and gratitude that she couldn't stop the weepy groan that broke free from her chest. He pressed his hips into hers. Rachel returned the touch by taking all of him in. Once she had all of him, she stilled and Rolle stilled under her. She moved from his lips, stroking his hair from his forehead. His eyes were wet with her tears as he looked up at her. Rachel suddenly pressed down even harder using every muscle in her body to drive down impossibly far. His expression changed to alarmed concern for her even if he was unable to make himself stop her.

They felt it then. It was only a spark, but it ignited a short fuse that started a flash fire within both of them. They only had time to gasp before their climax tore through their bodies, ripping them in half with its force.

§∞•••∞§

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

Bella stood by the window and watched the four men disappear into the trees. The hunt had been Edward's idea, to get Carlisle out of the house. They were hunting together a lot lately and today Jasper and Emmett joined them; Emmett bouncing back to his usual self, unphased by the events of only a few days ago. With arm fully healed and now knowing the truth behind Rolle's behavior, all was forgiven as far as he was concerned. The thing she loved most about Emmett was his uncanny ability to simply live in the moment.

Alice came up quietly from behind and slid her hand into Bella's, then hugged her arm tight, resting her head against Bella's shoulder. They stood together in comfortable silence watching the trail their husbands had taken away from the house. Bella leaned her head to one side and rested her cheek on Alice's head.

Nothing was determined yet; nothing was settled. The family's indecision about what to do hung in the house like dust suspended and directionless in the air. Something was to be done, but no one could decide what that _something_ looked like. Alice, too, felt like the dust in the air... waiting for the first breeze of decision to give her direction and vision again.

"What are you thinking?" Alice asked at last.

Bella laughed softly through her nose, running her hand over Alice's hair. "You sound like Edward."

"He doesn't ask you that any more," Alice argued idly.

"I know," Bella replied.

Alice looked up into her friend and sister's face. "I'm afraid of what I'm seeing, Bella," she whispered. "Please tell me what you're thinking."

Bella looked into Alice's worried amber eyes and sighed. "What would you do? If Rolle did this for you, what would you do?"

Alice ignored the question. "You're going to Italy, aren't you?" she asked. Her voice was small and worried. She already knew the answer even if the decisions were not firm.

"I don't know," Bella answered honestly.

Alice smiled sadly. "You wouldn't try to talk Edward out of it?"

Bella shook her head. "What do you see? What are some of the things you're seeing?"

Alice rested her head against Bella's arm again, silent. Whatever she was seeing it was making her sick with worry. Bella pulled Alice into a hug and just held her. They stood in each other's arms a long time simply drawing comfort from each other.

"The problem with finding happiness," Alice said at last, "is that it comes hand in hand with worry."

Bella rubbed her hand over Alice's shoulders. "What do you mean?"

"You're always worried about losing it."

§∞•••∞§

Jasper ambled back into the small clearing and glanced around. Branches were scattered over the ground, the splintered ends still bright yellow-white from being ripped from their trees even though the leaves on the ends were starting to brown and curl. He knew Edward was nearby, but obviously not in plain sight. He automatically scanned the trees and found his brother sitting in a Tom Sawyer pose with his legs dangling and swinging over the side of a branch twenty feet up. With two carefully placed jumps, he was soon across from his brother in a neighboring tree.

"Good hunting?" Jasper asked.

Edward shrugged. "Lynx. You?"

Jasper shrugged. "Just a small black bear." When Edward only acknowledged this with a nod, Jasper regarded him thought fully. "You realize that whatever you're growing determined over doing, you won't be able to leave Bella behind, right? I reckon she'd leave Rolle to it if you even thought of asking her to stay."

Edward glared mildly at him for this observation, though he knew Jasper was right. Hearing the confirmation of his thoughts only served to irritate him.

"Go ahead and get mad, if you want," Jasper said with a shrug. "Just start wrappin' yer head around the fact that whatever you decide will involve her, too."

"Who?" Emmett asked from below.

"Bella," Jasper answered for Edward, knowing his brother was starting to feel stubborn about the topic.

Emmett laughed from below. "That didn't take long," came his deep chuckling voice. "Once an arrogant knight in shining armor, always an arrogant..."

"Alright already!" Edward snapped without malice. "I got it."

"You know, brother, you get tunnel vision when it comes to her," Emmett observed.

Edward's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? That I want to protect my wife?"

Emmett shook his head, climbing into the tree hand over hand to join them, using only his arms to pull himself up, enjoying the chore of it. "Nah... we all want to protect our wives. I just mean, you're so wound up about how to keep her from going to Italy that you're forgetting we _all_ want to go."

"All?" Edward asked, moving aside to share his bough with Emmett.

"Sure," Jasper added. "Rolle's our friend, too. We don't want him there any more than you do."

"No one is going to Italy," came Carlisle's voice now as he leapt from treetop to treetop. Though he was still a ways off, they heard his voice easily. "It would dishonor Rolle's sacrifice."

Edward's anger flared again. "I'm not going to leave him there," he said adamantly.

"And we're not going to let Edward go alone," Emmett added.

As soon as the frustration began to climb, it immediately abated, when Jasper snapped, "Look! If you guys don't stop, I swear I will make everyone so horny you won't come out of your bedrooms for an eon."

"Really?" Emmett grinned.

"I'm sorry," Edward apologized quickly, knowing better than anyone how hard the past few days had been on Jasper. "But I do think we need to talk about this, Carlisle. It's not right for you to dictate this, and you know it."

"Dude, can you really make us horny for that long?" Emmett asked Jasper, amazed.

"Focus, Emmett," Jasper told him.

He pointed a large finger at Jasper. "We're talking later," he promised.

Jasper rolled his eyes as Carlisle joined him on the branch.

"All right, Edward," Carlisle capitulated. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't been..."

"Reasonable? Sane? Rational? Happy? Stable?" Emmett offered.

Carlisle shot Emmett a hard look. "Open-minded...." he filled in for himself, "...when it comes to what happened this week."

"I understand that," Edward agreed gently, "and I understand what it means to be over-protective, Carlisle."

At this, both Jasper and Emmett gasped mockingly and dramatically rolled their eyes or slapped a hand over their cheek to express their dismay. Edward chose to ignore them.

"But Bella mentioned something the other day." He looked around at each of them now. "When I left her in Forks, doing what I thought was right, would you all agree that I was woefully wrong?"

"Hell yes!" Emmett said loudly.

"Of course," Jasper agreed.

Edward nodded, knowing this was their feeling already. "And if you had to do it all over again, would you let me leave?" he asked, looking now to Carlisle, knowing already how hard that separation was, not only on Bella and himself, but also on the entire family, especially Carlisle.

Carlisle sighed softly. "I would have done more to convince you how wrong you were."

"And if you couldn't?" Edward pressed. "If I left anyway, would you have come after me?"

A quiet tension filled the treetops as both Emmett and Jasper bit their tongues and simply waited for Carlisle to answer.

Their patriarch sighed softly. "Yes."

Edward did not nod or make any other motion to acknowledge he'd won this debate. Instead he said, "Would you agree that maybe we should try to learn from that mistake?"

Carlisle looked thoughtful and considered everything Edward was trying to say. _This is hard for me right now,_ he thought to Edward.

"I know," Edward said gently. "I just need you to consider it. What Rolle is doing is noble, but... wrong."

Carlisle regarded his first son, unable to help the pride he felt in Edward. Despite their unchanging nature, Edward had changed. Or maybe it was just easier for him now to be the man he had always been.

Carlisle turned suddenly to Jasper, recalling a conversation they'd had many years ago. "If no one ever knew who Rolle was, and no one had ever seen him kill, then how did Charlotte and Peter hear about him? Where did the rumors about 'the assassin' come from?"

"I could call Peter and ask," Jasper offered.

"Peter carries a cellphone?" Emmett asked skeptically.

Jasper chuckled with a shrug. "It's the new thing in the nomad experience."

"Call him," Carlisle instructed, and Jasper pulled out his phone and dialed. The conversation was brief and they all shared the same moment of shock when they heard the answer through Jasper's phone.

"Eleazar?" Edward repeated.

"Makes sense if you think about it," Emmett replied. "He's the one who can figure out gifts, right?"

"Maybe this is all just the grapevine effect," Jasper said as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "So next we call Eleazar and ask him where _he_ heard it from."

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted, and thanks to George.

**Reviews will give you a sneek peek into what Alice actually saw... So I've heard...**


	8. Chapter 8 Questions from answers

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some mac geek who just had a freak-out today over the iPad, and trust me... we ALL heard... ad nauseaum. Even after we asked her to stop. Twice.**

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

********Be sure to check out the Indies!**** Nominations are open**  
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**Chapter 8: Questions from answers**

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

The house Esme had found for them in Nova Scotia had enormous spacious rooms, though only four bedrooms. Normally when they were all together, she would only consider a house with no fewer than six, but choices in this part of Canada were rare. Most of the homes here were for small families, and the rest were hunting cabins. The climate did not invite the wealthy and their accompanying extravagant homes, no matter how spectacular the views were.

She had nearly given up and opted to purchase several smaller homes in close proximity when this house became available. The size of the rooms invited potential construction of studies within the bedrooms, or at the very least, sitting areas. Carlisle had insisted on simply setting up a desk in their bedroom and kept a laptop and a few texts nearby.

Each of the Cullen men glanced at the large bed where they had found sanctuary less than a week ago, remembering those hours of silent comfort. Emmett flopped across the foot of the bed. Edward pushed Emmett's feet off the comforter before sitting next to him.

Carlisle moved to his desk and punched in the name on the videophone. Advertising filled the display screen as they waited for their Denali cousins to answer the call. Among the amazing changes of the twenty-first century were the spectacular strides in technology. In the early part of the century, people needed mobility and cell phones were popular, but video calls overwhelmed the wireless spectrum and more and more people were using landlines again because the technology allowed for the intense demands on the system. Alice already had them purchasing strategic companies that would allow them to take advantage of the new wireless video technology that would bring the same functionality back to mobile devices. Advertisers found an immense market in video calling technology. They not found a new way to deliver their message, but they could target the market based on geography. So it wasn't at all surprising to see ads from the local cannery curl across the screen.

They watched the videophone as it displayed generic graphics to indicate the connection was being made and heard a routine greeting from a familiar voice before she saw who was calling.

"Carlisle!" Kate replied with a smile in her voice. "It's wonderful to hear from you! How are you?"

"We're fine," Carlisle reassured. "And you?"

"Excellent. We've had a bit of fun here. Did you hear about the earthquake?" she asked, before quickly answering her own question. "Of course you haven't. I'm sorry. Such a big place here, but nothing at all to the rest of the world."

"Oh? Was it a six?" Carlisle asked, still making small talk.

"Six? Oh, heavens no. Do you think we'd be so delighted with a six? No, no... it was an seven point two!"

"Really?" Carlisle couldn't help but be impressed. "Any damage?"

"A bit, but nothing we can't handle. Carmen and Tanya watched a great display of northern lights the night before the earthquake. We were just discussing the possible connection between the two. There was also an incident with a particularly large grizzly that day. Do you remember in sixty-three when that family of bears harassed the town and the next day there was a seven point three earthquake?" Kate reminisced.

Carlisle laughed softly with a nod. "Is Eleazar there? I'd like to speak to him."

"Oh, sure."

"Hello!" came his familiar voice and image on the screen. His eyes scanned his screen, taking in the image of the room behind Carlisle and recognizing everyone present.

"Ah, Edward! How is that lovely wife of yours?" Eleazar asked.

"She's well, thank you."

"Eleazar," Carlisle interrupted, "What have you heard about the rumors of an assassin, a vampire assassin?"

"Just that there's reportedly a vampire who kills vampires. It's all quite mysterious. It almost sounds ridiculous, as if that's anything out of the usual. I could be called a vampire assassin myself. So could all of you after that business with the newborns in Seattle."

"But you've never heard of something that would make even _you_ pause? Something outside of our experience, a skill perhaps?"

"Carlisle..." Eleazar asked carefully. "What's going on?"

Carlisle looked at Edward, gesturing for him to explain.

"I think it's my friend, Rolle."

"Rolle?" Eleazar asked.

"I met him in Chicago years ago. He was a vampire, but different from any other I had ever met: his eyes for one. They were silver, not gold or red." When Eleazar did not speak, Edward continued. "He played piano, and we began talking about the jazz festival in the area."

"What makes you think he's an assassin?" Eleazar finally asked.

"I saw him kill Demetri, from the Volturi guard."

"Demetri?" Eleazar repeated in shock. "You _saw_ this?"

"I did. So did Bella, Alice and Jasper."

There was another pause, before Eleazar continued urgently, "I need you to tell me everything."

Edward told him everything that had occurred during the hurricane and shared the supposed threat the Volturi may have posed toward the family. Eleazar was quiet, absorbing every detail until Edward spoke about the sudden violent sickness and pain they all felt before Rolle made Demetri vanish.

"How far away were you from them when you felt this?" he wanted to know.

"Perhaps a three-quarters of a mile," Edward answered.

"Carlisle," Eleazar asked. "Did you feel anything like Edward is describing?"

"No, not that I recall, but they were at least seven or eight miles away from us."

Eleazar glanced back at Jasper and Emmett in the picture. "You saw this attack?"

"It was just as Edward said," Jasper corroborated. "The pain, the pulsing, the sound waves in the air, and then it felt like I was going to be sick, violently sick like a human. When the waves in the air stopped, everything went back to normal."

"And Demetri?"

"Rolle hit him flat in the chest and he simply turned to dust."

"And Rolle was with you for how long?" Eleazar asked.

"A month," Emmett answered. "He was on and off here for a month."

"You saw this, too?" Eleazar asked Emmett.

"No, I was with Carlisle. All he did to me was rip off my arm."

"You arm," Eleazar repeated soberly. "So he didn't stay with you the entire time?" Eleazar asked.

"No, he was a guest," Carlisle answered this time. "He had the freedom of the house. Eleazar, have you ever heard of a skill like this in all your work with the Volturi?"

"With the Volturi?" he repeated. "No, but I can see why they'd be eager to take him in. I did hear something once..." he trailed off with a worried and somber expression on his face. "Would you mind if I made a few phone calls?"

"We'd be grateful," Edward said, coming up behind Carlisle and resting a hand on his father's shoulder. "Any information you can give us would be helpful."

"And..." Jasper broke in, ignoring Edward's stare as he heard what question he wanted answered. _We need to know_, he thought to his brother, even as he continued, "...anything you can tell us about how to fight back against such an attack, if anyone has ever survived it."

"I'll let you know what I find then," and Eleazar's image faded from the screen.

§∞•••∞§

**Bucharest****, Romania**

Rain sheeted down across the coarse cobbles of the street and sidewalk, pouring off the red tile gutters of the small hamlet's buildings. The clash of old and new marred the quaint feel of the village as old world classic architecture was forced aside for quick-fix communist tenements. Cost-cutting fingerprints marked these buildings in more ways than simply being plain and unappealing. The cheap aluminum downspouts, poorly attached, leaked in torrents onto the street. A lonely crooked man, buried deep in a heavy cloak, shielded himself from this waterfall over his door and pushed his way inside. His deep burgundy eyes were hidden in the shadows of his dripping hair.

As Vladimir swept his wet hair from his face and pulled the cloak off his back with one hand, it fell too quickly from his back. He caught it deftly, reaching across his misshapen chest. Water sprayed into the small foyer. The unnecessary arm of his shirt and jacket was folded and pinned to his side.

Glancing across the room, he met the blank stare of his brother. Stefan stood frozen with the phone held in his hand. A quick busy signal said that the call had been disconnected for quite some time.

"What is it?" Vladimir asked quietly.

Stefan set the phone down slowly staring at it, his brow drawing down with concern. He did not look at his brother.

"What has happened?" Vladimir asked.

Stefan raised his eyes: blood-hungry dark red stared into blood-full red. He answered with a single word that held a thousand words and worries. "Eleazar."

Vladimir raised his hand to hold the concave shape of his missing shoulder.

Eleazar was a talented Volturi counselor who had denounced his allegiances to the ruling body and left Italy. He and his mate, Carmen, removed themselves to Alaska where they were befriended by the coven there. Over time, Eleazar and Carmen took up the abnormal lifestyle of the Alaskan clan hunting animals and feeding from them exclusively. When they were certain Eleazar's alliance were truly severed, the Romanians had contacted him about the young vampire boy they had found upon their shores. They shared little of what they knew at first, merely hoping to discover more about the odd skills the boy possessed.

They found Eleazar to be easy to approach and sensible in his evaluation. His demeanor was sober and attentive, reminding them of the vampires of old even though his eyes had started to fade in color. Eleazar's alternative lifestyle was not discussed and soon did not matter at all. The more they spoke, the more the Romanian's voracious need to _know_ allowed them to speak more freely to the gift-reader. They speculated about what the youth's skills might develop into. More importantly, they discussed the extent of damage that the boy could do as he grew stronger. Eleazar was the only one they shared this with. It was only out of necessity that they trusted him at all.

"Eleazar?" Vladimir repeated. "He's had news of the boy?"

Stefan nodded slowly. "He's been with Carlisle this past month."

"Carlisle?" Vladimir considered this and his body relaxed. "If he's to be ashore at all, that would be the least objectionable choice." He dropped the wet cloak over a bench and walked by his brother to get a towel to dry off.

Stefan reached out and put his hand on Vladimir's arm. "He attacked him."

Vladimir stopped and stared thinking he must have misunderstood. "Who?"

"Rolle attacked Carlisle." Vladimir winced with shock so Stefan elaborated. "He did not cause harm to him, but he did remove the arm of one of Carlisle's childer. Rolle did not harm any other of the coven, but..."

Vladimir felt the worst news was about to be told, and he was not disappointed.

"Marcus was present during the attack. We were right. It _was_ Marcus who turned the boy. The Cullens turned Rolle over to him at his betrayal." Stefan looked meaningfully into the face of his companion. "Marcus took the boy back to Italy with him."

"No!" Vladimir snapped. "What was Marcus doing there?" he needed to know.

Stefan held out his hands helpless.

Vladimir staggered back a step and fell heavily into a thick wooden chair. "We are lost," he whispered.

"What if we were wrong?" Stefan asked urgently. "What if our findings..." He trailed off at Vladimir's dark expression.

"We were not wrong," he said in a flat voice, running his hand over his missing shoulder. "If Rolle would attack one such as Carlisle, there must be more about him or his coven than we knew, or the story is incomplete."

The elders grew quiet with their thoughts trying to connect the information they now had to the threat only they could truly understand. As much as they wanted to overthrow the Volturi, they also realized the danger of catastrophic exposure to the mortal world. They knew that Rolle's deadly ability was just as effective against humans as it was against the immortals.

"Why was Marcus there?" Vladimir muttered to himself again. "And why was the boy with Carlisle again? Surely he would not keep going back to them if they had dark intentions."

Stefan looked up. "Do you suppose the Romans filth connected Rolle with the stories of the assassin? Perhaps they sent his maker there to collect him, worried about Carlisle's numbers. We knew the Cullens growing coven would draw attention to them."

Vladimir stood suddenly with a frustrated cry. "This is no good. We only speculate. We have to go and learn for ourselves." He paced the floor in his agitation as his mind worked furiously in how to approach this new dilemma.

"Call Eleazar," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Ask him to make the arrangements for our introduction. We must speak to Carlisle ourselves. We must discover the circumstances of this attack." Vladimir strode urgently to the desk in the other room. "I'll make arrangements for our flight. We leave immediately."

"What if we were wrong about Carlisle? What if he refuses to see us?" Stefan asked.

Vladimir's tone was sharp and intractable. "We're going anyway."

§∞•••∞§

**Paris****, France**

Rachel flung her arm out across the bed then frantically looked around the small room. She knew she had fallen asleep in his arms, but when she woke up to an empty bed she couldn't stop the surge of insecurity. It wasn't a luxury room. It was a simple standard size for Europe, and frankly a bit large for Paris. It had a swing-out window, but the only view was the courtyard car park below.

Rolle was standing there, nude and stunning, looking down at the cars. He was bathed in the pale light of a waning moon holding back the heavy drapes with one hand letting the soft light of night into the room. His skin looked even paler and his hair had no color at all in the moonlight. He looked like a Greek statue. His expression was pensive from what she could see of his face.

Just looking at him made her ache. She got up and went to stand behind him, wrapping him in her arms and pressing her hands against his chest. He was cold from the night air. He was a little taller than she was, but not by much. She could easily rest her chin on his shoulder and stare down into the car park.

"What's down there?" she whispered. "A Llamborghini Gallardo?"

He snorted lightly and brought one hand up to rest over hers, pressing her hand against him. He turned his head toward her so she nuzzled his ear and put her lips around his earlobe, sucking at it lightly. He sighed slowly and leaned into her kiss. It thrilled her that he enjoyed her touch. When her hands began to slide down his chest and over his stomach with deliberate purpose, he turned to face her and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close and block her destination between their bodies. He leaned in and kissed her. Rachel kept her frown at bay, deciding to not complain when he kissed her the way he did.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked, raising his hand to her cheek. He traced his thumb along her bottom eyelid, which she was afraid looked as dark as his did in the shadows.

She shook her head. "My clock hasn't reset yet." She draped her own arms around his waist. "I shouldn't sleep any more though, to force myself into the time zone. Can you help?"

"What do you need?" he asked, his hands rubbing lightly over the top of her backside.

It was such a loaded question that she debated for a moment between nice and evil, but she was becoming more and more curious about him the longer she knew him. "Can we just lay in bed and talk a while?"

"Sure." He walked back to the bed with her and held up the covers while she crawled in. Rolle walked around to the other side, slid under the covers and spooned up against her with his arm draped over waist, kissing the side of her neck.

She knew he couldn't see her eyes roll back into her head, but she was sure he heard her swallow hard and felt the shiver that ran through her.

"You're still cold?" she asked, mostly to cover up the fact that her trembling had nothing to do with his body temperature.

"I'm fine," he assured sounding distracted.

When he started tucking the covers around her, she realized he had misinterpreted her trembling. She didn't stop him when he pushed the covers closer to her body, but she swatted his hand and gave the blanket a yank when he tried to tuck it between their bodies to separate his cold skin from hers.

"Hey!" he reproved sounding honestly irked.

"Hey yourself," she snapped right back and took his wrist tightly in her hand to pull it back around her. She wiggled back straight against his chest.

Rolle chuckled through his nose, and Rachel was secretly glad she hadn't really pissed him off. He bent his knees into hers and pulled her to him in a tight spoon. Rachel couldn't help but feel his cock tucked against her ass and she made contented sounds to show her approval. Rolle pulled her hair over her neck and kissed her softly behind her ear.

"So can I know your whole name, or is that going to make this too personal?" she asked him.

"Rolle Tylor," he answered easily.

"Rolle," she repeated. "That's an unusual name. Is it a family name?"

"It's short for Rolland. Can I know _your_ whole name?" he asked softly in return.

Rachel felt a jolt of excitement that he wanted to know. "Harp."

"Rachel Harp?"

"Mm-hmm."

He was silent then murmured quietly, "Rachel Harp," as his hand brushed lightly back and forth over her thigh.

Rachel's reaction to hearing him say her name like that worried her. She slowly started to be afraid that what was originally just a lot of hot fun with the mile-high club was becoming something different now; something... else.

"You're not..." she started to say, then paused uncomfortably in the shadow of her sudden realization. She really didn't want to know the answer to the question that suddenly burned in her mind. "You're not, you know, married or seeing someone or anything are you?"

He didn't reply.

Rachel wanted him to chuckle. She wanted him to sigh. She wanted _anything_ other than his silence. Her stomach sank. His silence said so much that she couldn't stand it. "That's okay. I'm sorry. You don't—"

"No," he barely whispered.

She had been so eager for any kind of denial she stopped speaking at the first sound of his voice. His answer, rather the _way_ he answered, only brought more anxiety. What was the dramatic delay? Was he lying to her?

"I'm not lying to you," he said as if he read her mind.

She couldn't bring herself to believe him, though. "Rolle," she tried to explain, but stopped and sighed. "I'm not... I mean, this was fun and all, but I'm not, you know, a home wrecker."

He took a slow deep even breath, then released it just as slow and even. His hand stilled on her leg. "There's no one like that waiting for me," he answered low but his voice was strained.

He couldn't hide it, and she heard it easily. There was something in his voice, something important, but she only wanted to hear his words and feel the instant relief they brought her. Rachel reached down to his wrist and brought his arm around her waist, pressing back into him more. She felt him rest his forehead against the back of her shoulder.

"So what do you do?" she asked to change the subject. Whatever it was he could tell her later if he wanted to. Rachel let herself be happy with the answer in any case, having jumped over the biggest hurdle and feeling a lot better about life.

"I'm a dog catcher," he said and she whipped her head around in surprise trying to see his face.

"You are not!" she cried.

His chest shook against her and although she couldn't hear it, she knew he was laughing at her.

"Rolle!" she scolded him and reached back, swatting at whatever she could reach of him.

He grabbed her hip and kissed the back of her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

"_Now_ you're a bald-faced liar," she accused him.

He moved behind her and leaned up so he could press his mouth to her ear. She felt everything go out of focus at his touch. His lips moved against her ear as he asked in a breath, "Do you like this?" he asked of nothing in particular. He pressed his hips against her and lightly dragged his tongue along her ear.

Rachel gasped. "Yes!"

"I won't lie to you, honey, but there are some questions I can't answer." He nuzzled her hair.

The fog in her head started to lift. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he added.

The fog vanished. "You...!?" She didn't even know how to begin to express her annoyance. "You lean in and get all snuggle-sexy on me and then say you won't answer? Was that a trick?" She tried to maintain the ire in her voice, but knew she didn't succeed.

"Should I have left it at the snuggle-sexy and not said anything else?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

She didn't answer him, and all the bigger questions forced themselves forward in her mind. "Who was that man you were with on the plane?" she asked instead.

This time he didn't answer.

"Is he somehow part of the work you won't talk about?" she pressed.

"Should I use the snuggle-sexy again?" he asked instead.

She huffed loudly. "Is that your way of telling me you won't answer?"

He let out a slow breath through his nose. "It's my way of... asking for a pass."

His refusal to answer stung more than it should have. He must have sensed the change in her though, because his hand slowly started stroking her arm.

"Would you rather I lie?" he asked, and his voice was sad.

Rachel rolled over to see his face, needing to understand, hoping to find the answers in his eyes. He was giving her the choice. She knew if she asked him to lie, he would, and she could doubt everything he told her. Or, she could let him have his _pass_ and know that everything else was true without question. The choice was easy, but bittersweet.

"No," she relented with sigh, wondering why she was so hung up on trust with someone who was a one-night-stand.

"You can still have the snuggle, if you want," he offered.

"Snuggle-sexy," she corrected automatically, unable to keep the petulant sound out of her voice and hating herself for it.

His fingers slid along her chin, pulling her face up so she had to look at him. His pale eyes looked black in the dark, but she could still see the outline of his face and the ghost-like wisps of hair around his head. He lowered his hand to her breast, alternately lifting and palming it.

"You work for him," she stated quietly. Rolle's hand continued to fondle her and she watched his shadowed face intently. He nodded once. "He told you to stop talking to me." Rolle didn't nod this time, but his touch over her breast became a light caress. It wasn't outright acquiescence, but to Rachel it felt like it. "And you were left behind because you disobeyed him." Rolle's hand became still, but did not move from where it rested cupped around her. "When will he want you back?"

"Any day now," he answered slowly.

"What will you do?"

"Go, when I'm summoned."

They stared at each other in the dark. She was unable to see the emotion in his eyes, but Rolle could see hers.

"Until then?" she asked in a tiny voice.

He lowered his hand to her ribs, under her breast. "I'd like to be with you, if you'll have me."

Rachel reached up and lightly combed his hair back from his temple a few times with her fingernails as she considered what he was saying. Immediate gratification was easily accomplished, but there was something about him still that she wanted to get to know, something that wouldn't be answered short-term. His beauty wasn't only skin deep. Yes, he was gorgeous and still she couldn't believe he was here with her now, but it was more than his looks. He was a puzzle to her: passionate, tender, and sad. Everything about his soul seemed to be a struggle and she couldn't understand why.

"So... not a one night stand?" she asked before she could second-guess his answer, not at all surprised when she felt him stiffen next to her.

"No!" he insisted, earnest and sounding hurt that she had suggest it. "No," he repeated again softer, but the hurt was still in his voice. It made her glad she couldn't really see his expression in the dark.

"Then what is this?" She hated that her voice sounded small as she asked this, and she couldn't identify what she was feeling that would make it so.

His thumb moved slowly against her skin, brushing over her sternum and up the side of her breast then down again. "It's arrogant," he whispered as his thumb swept down.

"It's beautiful." His thumb swept up.

"It's selfish." Down.

"It's generous." Up.

"It's foolish." Down.

"It's innocent." Up.

He took a deep breath and it stuttered in his chest. "Can it... can it just be what it is? Can it just be a moment in time..." his voice broke and he pressed his nose and eyes against her chest. "...just to be happy?" he finished in a whisper as if someone might hear him saying a bad word. She could feel his brow furrow against her skin, felt his lips purse against her as his entire body tensed, desperately trying to hold something in.

She hated not knowing what he thought they were doing, but she hated seeing him tense and worried like this even more. She pressed into him, nuzzling him closer. "Okay," she whispered into his ear. She melted into his arms because she wanted to enjoy this time with him, wanted to enjoy _him_. "Okay," she repeated, hating the defeat she could hear in her own voice.

"I'll keep you as long as I can then," she told him, wanting to get up and find his cell phone so she could smash it into pieces.

"Rachel...."

She pressed her fingers to his lips to stop him. "No, don't." Their cool softness distracted her for a moment and she rubbed them with her fingertips. "Don't say anything else." She dragged her finger against his bottom lip, focusing all her attention there so she wouldn't have to see the dim light in his eyes. She couldn't look at his eyes.

He opened his mouth a little and wrapped his lips gently around her finger. She hadn't realized she had opened her own mouth until his finger was on her lips, imitating her touch on his. He touched the tip of his tongue to her nail, slowly dragging it around and over her fingertip. Rachel moved her finger, exploring his mouth deeper, but he took the opportunity to move on top of her again. It wasn't for sex, though. He positioned himself too low. She cradled him between her thighs and he rested easily over her, keeping some of his weight on his arms. He nuzzled her neck and chest, pressing light kisses against her skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, cuddling him, until the sky outside started to lighten.

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, and **LolaShoes**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

Apologies if I appeared insensitive about the Haiti earthquake by speaking so lightly of an earthquake in this chapter. To be honest, this was written in November of 2009 as I was writing ahead to prepare for posting consistently. I considered taking it out, but feel it will was necessary to remind folks of exactly how big Alaska is, and how unpopulated.

FYI, there will not be a post next week. I will be wrapped up in a work event. Look for Chapter 9 on Feb. 15th

**Reviews let the author know you are reading... So I've heard... **

**Feel free to tell me what I'm doing wrong, too! I have a thick skin when it comes to writing. I want to know what doesn't work. I'm always looking to improve as a writer.**


	9. Chapter 9 Caveat emptor

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to this strange woman we see in dreams. She always wears sneakers, keeps her hair short, and enjoys watching fish sleep. She doesn't talk much, but she sure does mix a wicked clam-digger!**

Check out my blog for updates:  gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

****The Indie TwiFic Award nominations have been posted**  
**www(dot)theindietwificawards(dot)com/ValidatedStoriesByCategories(dot)aspx

**Thanks to everyone who nominated **_**Absolución**_** for "Canon or AU story that knocks you off your feet (WIP)."** When I found out, I didn't believe it. It was four hours before I could get to a computer to confirm the nomination. I could have been knocked over with a feather.

* * *

**Chapter 9: ****Caveat emptor**

**Volterra, Italy**

Marcus ignored the human placing a computer on the Louis XVII desk. It couldn't have looked more out of place if it had been installed in the Parthenon. Its clean modern lines looked plain next to the delicate filigree and hand-carved rosettes that were painstakingly carved into the polished surface of the desk. This table had existed for over two hundred years and would easily manage two hundred more. The computer would only last four or five. As if to testify to this fact, a gaudy blue cable straggled like a varicose vein down the side of the table and across the ancient marble floor.

Electricity had been novel and brought light to dark corners, ridding the obnoxious smell of candlelight and, later, gas. Radio had been appalling and to a vampire's ears was nothing but static and crackling warbles of sound. The advent of the telephone had been useful, however, and was one of the few modern technologies Marcus could appreciate. Television and movies had been novel for a while, bringing images and news from distant places, and securing their roles as the governing body of their kind across the globe, not simply in Europe, Africa and Asia.

There was yet a wireless technology that would penetrate the granite and marble walls within the castle. The 'vein' would have to stay.

The computer technician pushed a stack of Marcus' beloved newspapers, spilling them over. It was the proverbial match to the gasoline that was the vampire's displeasure. Marcus rose in a fury only to be stopped before he could take a step.

"Excellent!" clapped Aro happily. "You've accepted at last," he said in delight. "I'm so pleased to do this for you, Marcus." Aro strode over to the human, noticing the man was sweating profusely. Aro ran his hand over the sleek monitor as it flickered to life. "Fascinating," he murmured, then turned to his brother. "I'll show you how to use it. I've had a... well, a crash course, you could say," he joked.

Marcus instantly understood where the second installer had disappeared.

"Thank you," Marcus said diplomatically though is voice was strained and more of a growl. He moved to straighten his stack of papers, glaring at the installer.

"Come, come, my brother," Aro laughed knowing exactly why Marcus was annoyed. He didn't even spare the installer a glance as he spoke. "They were hardly damaged," he teased. When he saw his words only made Marcus more irritated, he nodded with a sigh. "Very well."

Marcus fell on the human with incredible speed, his face contorting into a demonic mask before burying against the man's neck. There was no scream, only a choking gasp of surprise. The aroma of adrenalin and copper filled the room like a mist. The sound of the panicked heart raced for a moment like drums on a battlefield before thudding heavily to a stop. It was over in an instant. Marcus dropped the body to the floor and stepped back.

Smiling indulgently, Aro pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Marcus with an unsubtle hint about the blood covering his lips and chin.

Marcus ignored the offer. "I don't _need_ your permission to feed, Aro. Nor do I need to ask whom I choose as my prey," Marcus sneered, insulted. "We do this because we agreed to, not because we _allow_ each other to."

"Of course we do, brother," Aro agreed in sincere obsequisness. There was even a hint of hurt in his voice.

"And don't condescend to me," Marcus challenged again.

Aro tilted his head. "It's not like you to be irritable. I'd almost think you were channeling Caius. I meant no insult," he pointed out in a light and friendly tone. "Come, please, sit and talk to me more of your trip," he encouraged.

"You already know everything," Marcus said dully, swiping his hand across his mouth.

"Mmm," Aro hummed as he stepped over the body and sat gracefully in one of the few chairs. "I do so miss Carlisle, though. Don't you?" he asked and continued without waiting for an answer. "He had a way of bringing a unique perspective to so many things. His joie de vivre seemed so odd I found myself enjoying it for simply being different."

"As opposed to the usual joie de pouvoir?" Marcus asked lifelessly. "Are you bored at last?"

"Oh, my, no! No," Aro answered happily, "I find there is still much beauty and wonder to be found in the world. Take your progeny, for example! I simply cannot wait to meet him."

"Ever the politician," Marcus said, giving the computer's mouse an indifferent shove. "You speak of beauty and wonders, but only seek to learn how best to exploit them for you own purpose."

"Marcus, Marcus.... ever the cynic," Aro parroting back the observation with a tsking sound. "Call for the boy."

Marcus sighed and nodded.

"Oh, and I wanted to tell you that we dealt with the Barsklia issue," Aro informed him.

The name Jean-Claude Barsklia had been brought to their attention only a month ago. He was a private investigator who was too good at his job. Heidi had collected a sixteen-year-old girl during one of her many forays to gather humans for 'a unique tour of the Volterra underground.' The girl's father turned out to be a man of some influence in Indochina who had hired Barsklia to find his daughter when she disappeared in Greece during her holiday.

The human slave market was only one of their many methods to bring prey into the city. No humans were taken from Volterra itself unless they were tourists, and those tourists were carefully lured to the city through illegitimate and well-paid travel agents. There were never itineraries or travel plans left behind for people like Barsklia to follow.

"Oh?" Marcus went through the motions of conversation, but it was clear he wasn't interested in knowing more. Aro allowed him this indifference and ignored it.

"A large sum of money was transferred to his account before he conveniently disappeared." Aro leaned back in the chair and rested his foot on the body of the technician making an ottoman of his corpse. "There were also incriminating letters left behind that one might infer he 'joined the other team', as they say. In any case, Heidi and Thomas are setting up a new tracking system so we will know which humans are brought here and which are legitimately sold.

"And speaking of Heidi," Aro continued, "she asked if you had any taste preferences for her next trip."

Marcus shook his head and absently pressed a few keys on the new computer.

"I rather fancied another batch from Nepal," Aro idly mentioned. "They remind me of the old days with their earthy smell. I've told Heidi to avoid the French. All I taste is cigarettes."

Marcus snorted. "And Americans taste the way I'd imagine plastic would with their diets of chemicals and processed food."

"What do you think of starting a commune of organic farmers to harvest from?" Aro asked in all seriousness.

"I'd find the notion ironic," Marcus said without humor or irony. "Harvesting organic farmers, indeed," he muttered.

"Do you remember the nomads from Germania? Ahh, now there was a feast," Aro reminisced. "All these genetic crops and chemical preservatives... Thank goodness they've finally realized how bad margarine is."

He knew Aro enjoyed forcing him into casual conversations such as this. The fact made him feel even more blasé about the act of holding an actual serious discourse. "Perhaps your friend Carlisle has some ideas." His insouciance over the issue was more than evident. The Cullens could have fed off birds for all he seemed to care. "Some insight to keeping the diet of his herd more traditional and untainted. I'm sure it's considerably harder to do with omnivores."

"We are what we eat," Aro agreed with a sly smile, using his foot to rock the body beneath his shoe.

Marcus rolled his eyes, hating this game that Aro forced him to play time and time again. He had to answer because Aro would never let it go. He had to identify the food the human had last eaten based on the taste or smell of the victim's blood. Caius also loved to join this game if it dragged itself into their audience chamber. He loved to humiliate Marcus in front of the guard.

It was better to get it over with now. "Coke-a-Cola and olives."

Aro wrinkled his nose. "Is that a normal combination?"

"How would I know?" Marcus snapped annoyed. "It didn't last long before the blood was peppered with the taste of his fear."

A longing smile crossed Aro's face. "Il nettare della morte," he drawled. "Such a sweet and fading note on the tongue." He stood suddenly and smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket. "That is why there will never be _True Blood_, no matter what the moviemakers try to imagine. They're simply incapable of taking reality," he looked up and smirked, "that far. The idea is too mortifying for them."

"What is that?" Marcus asked with uncharacteristic curiousity.

"A show on American television several years ago," Aro answered.

Marcus looked at Aro skeptically that he would have detailed knowledge about old American television shows, and seeing his brother's incredulity Aro felt the need to explain.

"We dined on the script editor last fall."

Marcus nodded, understanding, but turned away just to have the conversation be finished.

"You'll send for Rolle?" Aro asked again, but both knew it was not a yes or no question.

"Of course," Marcus said.

Aro headed toward the door saying, "Wonderful. And I'll send Thomas to..." he chuckled suddenly, "clear away the dirty dishes."

§∞•••∞§

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

"I forgot how nice this car is," Carlisle said, over the noise of the Aston Martin's monstrous engine.

"I doubt that," Edward chuckled.

Edward was not the brand-loyal type, but he truly loved this car manufacturer above all others. After the Vanquish, he'd bought the v-12 Vantage. He test-drove the Aston hybrid, Valor, but was unimpressed with it's performance and held on to the Vantage two more years in order to get this car: The new Aston Martin DB10 Valkyrie, or as Emmett put it, Edward's wet dream.

"Even if it were possible to forget anything," Edward continued, "no one could ever forget a car like this. They'd forget how to blink first." Then Edward cringed at the noise of a branch scraping the undercarriage of his car.

"You could slow down," Carlisle pointed out. "It's just the driveway."

With a frown of agreement, the car slowed to a turtle's pace of only thirty miles and took the winding path with the same ease, but less G-force. The lights of the house began to peek through the storm-tousled trees.

Gravel crunched under the wheels as the car came to a stop and both climbed out. Carlisle gently closed the door and ran his hand long the side of the car as if stroking a favored steed. He smiled in gratitude and patted his son's shoulder. "Thank you for the drive, Edward."

Edward did not mention how many times today Esme had wordlessly asked him to spend time with Carlisle. Instead, he simply replied, "You're welcome."

Carlisle looked at him a moment longer, his thoughts a confused jumble, then glanced at the house finding no desire to do anything at all. "I think I'll go for a walk," Carlisle said as he turned away from the brightly lit house.

Edward watched him walk away and ran his hand through his hair at a loss how best to help his mentor and father. His thoughts and doubts were silent to everyone except Edward, and even knowing these thoughts offered no guidance in how best to soothe Carlisle or help him work through his depression.

Esme came onto the porch and watched as Carlisle disappeared into the woods at a slow human pace. She glanced at Edward. _Should I join him or will it only make it worse?_

"He needs you," Edward told her, and Esme silently slipped from the porch and went to catch up to her husband.

Edward stood and watched the trees they had vanished behind, hearing Esme catch up with Carlisle. He heard them greet each other and kiss, and then he heard the clock in the family room chime midnight.

_Edward._

Bella's voice in his mind reached him as if she were standing next to him. Midnight! In a blink of an eye he was standing in their bedroom door. The sight that greeted him stunned him into immobility.

Bella was standing at the window looking out at the dark yard. Only the light on the bedside table was on. Her hair fell over her bare shoulders in waves. Her eyes met his in the reflection of the window. She had prepared for him, prepared for their time together. She was nude.

Edward stepped into the room and leaned back against the door to close it gently behind him. He stared at the sight of her; her legs, her hips, her waist, her perfect skin. She met his eyes through the reflection of the glass. She had changed so much since those shy awkward days at Forks High School. He'd thought she was beautiful then. She was absolutely stunning now. Her confidence, even nude, called to him like a siren. She argued that it was simply her confidence in his love for her and nothing more.

He took a deep breath to sigh. Instead, he was destroyed by her scent as he breathed in. He could taste her on the air. Edward tensed, fighting to control himself. The tether that always connected them snapped taught, vibrating between them.

Bella felt it, too. Arcs of static raced between them. Even through the reflection of the dark glass of their bedroom window she could see Edward's eyes turn black. She could not look away from them to see if her own eyes were the same, but assumed they were by judging the change in his demeanor. He reached up with one hand and tugged at his shirt, pulling the top fastener free with a pop as if it were held by a snap and not a small black button. There was tiny pinging sound as the button flew across the room and hit the mirror above their dresser.

Bella smiled and shook her head at him as he slowly dropped his hand to the next button. It, too, broke free and flew without a sound, landing on their bed.

Using only his eyes, Edward directed her to the bed. When Bella turned to look at him, another button flew and landed neatly in a cup. Their smiles widened at the coincidence, almost finding the humor in it, until the fire they saw in each other eyes snuffed it out. Bella stared at his chest and licked her lips prompting another button to go flying faster than the others as Edward shuddered at the sight of her tongue peeking through her lips. She met his eyes again and backed toward the foot of the bed.

There was a scraping sound as her foot nudged against the broken footboard they had hidden under the bed. It had fallen victim to their energetic activities several weeks ago. Bella did not need to shift her shield for Edward to know exactly what she was thinking in that moment. The memory of that night and the sound the cracking frame had made turned the next button into a lethal projectile that embedded itself into the wall.

Bella scooted back over the bed with Edward stalking across the room toward her. When he stopped at the foot of the bed, Bella stopped retreating, less than halfway to the headboard. Edward looked at her right leg and without a word Bella steepled her knee. His eyes never left hers as he lowered his mouth to it and pressed a kiss to the top then traced it with the tip of his tongue. He meaningfully looked at the left leg and she complied again. Edward gave the same attention to that knee before bringing his burning gaze back to her.

Still leaning slightly over the bed, he stared at her lips, licking his own at the memory of those lips on his. His gaze dropped to her chin that he loved to nibble on and down the smooth column of her neck. Bella's breathing increased as if it were his hands touching her. The strong rise and fall of her breasts drew his eyes lower still. His erection became painful as he watched her reaction to him. His ravenous scrutiny made her nipples tighten and perk up as if they were reaching out for his touch. Lower and slower his eyes traveled over the shallow indentations of her ribs and smooth stomach. His eyes fell at last on their quarry.

He held his breath as his gaze stilled over the bare skin before him. Moisture glistened at the edges of the soft folds and one word shot through his mind and body as his eyes snapped back to hers.

_Mine!_

The look he gave her almost made Bella come on the spot. His shirt hung open from his shoulders. She could see the tension quake across his chest with the need to possess her. Edward lowered his head, looking at her now through his lashes. A low growl rumbled from him. He knew exactly how it affected her to see him, hear him like this: pure predator.

She lowered her knees to the sides, spreading herself for him. Edward placed his open mouth on the inside of her knee, licking and nibbling at her skin as he lowered himself to the essence of her. He kissed her there as he slid his arms under and around her hips. A warm and heavy feeling spread through her body as she lowered her head onto the bed to enjoy the sensations of his feast.

His demanding lips tugged and pulled at her bare ones. His mouth slid side to side over her, gently burrowing against her. Bella's slid her hand back and forth over her stomach to match his movements as she slowly writhed on the bed. Her breaths were nothing more than voiceless moans, stating and stopping as his kisses moved intimately over her. Her anticipation started to build as he savored her.

Bella gasped as he flattened his tongue against her and his arms tightened around her. His slow licking motion, first up one side then the other served its purpose exactly, and the honey he was starving for replenished itself as her body readied itself for him. His arms tightened again as he pressed his mouth harder to her, his teeth lightly dragging along the over-sensitive skin.

Bella's breathing stuttered as if she were trying to say his name. Their wordless affair continued as he responded by torturing her clit, first delving the tip of his tongue against it and then sucking it between his lips. The game of push and pull continued until she felt the wetness build and overflow its confines, sliding slowly from her. She knew it would not make it far before Edward would capture it. She wasn't prepared for how far he would let it wander, though. As his tongue chased it and pressed mercilessly against her, Bella flung her arms out onto the bed and bucked uselessly against him. Her struggle in his arms only brought the fire in him to a scorching inferno and Edward growled again, this time the sound shot right through her hips as his tongue explored and capture all it could.

He pulled her to him hard, shifting her body several inches down the bed as he plunged in for the kill. His breaths were harsh against her, his tongue burying itself deeply into her, lapping at the source now, growling when he couldn't get deep enough. Edward pulled her up, almost onto her shoulders. His arms shifted to hold her hips to his chest, his neck arched down to keep his face against her. The room began to spin about them. Bella reached for him and snagged the top of his pants in her fingers, half ripping through the cloth and the other half pulling the zipper apart. She reached in and freed him, clutching him in her fingers. A loud growling groan vibrated directly into her along his twisting tongue.

Her orgasm only fed his endeavors and spun his hunger out of control. His mouth ravaged her now as she stroked him hard. His tongue fell into step with her hand: in and out while his lips sucked all he could get from her. As her second climax ripped through her, Edward gasped and followed her, spilling himself over her arm and the scar James had given her so many years ago.

Spent almost to exhaustion, they did not move. He rested his cheek against her inner thigh, holding her against him with less force now. They trembled, breathing hard as they tried to recover from the moment.

Bella reached up to his clasping arms and ran her finger over his wedding band. A love-drunk smile spread over his face. He bent and kissed her chastely and lovingly one more time before lowering her body to the bed.

Edward lay down beside her and smoothed his hand over her hair. "Did you call me?" he asked, the only words he had spoken since she had called to him in his mind.

Bella's answer was a breathy laugh.

With a happy and contented sigh, they cuddled together on top of the covers exchanging Eskimo kisses.

After a long moment and their fading post-coital bliss, the passion sobered in Edward's eyes and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Bella knew exactly what caused the change in him. It was exactly as they knew it would be. Bella could feel the light and easy happiness drain from herself as well as her thoughts, too, turned to what Rolle would be doing right now.

"Jasper," Edward whispered to her a moment before there was a light knock on their door.

Even though he knew Edward already knew the message he was delivering, Jasper said aloud, "Eleazar called back. He wants to know if we'd be willing to talk with the Romanians," he explained through the door.

"Call Carlisle," Edward answered. "We'll be out in a moment."

They listened to Jasper's footsteps walk away, then Bella reached up and stroked Edward's cheek. "Who are the Romanians?" she asked.

Taking her hand in his, he pulled it to his lips and kissed her wedding ring. "They were the leaders of our kind long ago. Even before the rise of Rome."

"The Volturi defeated them?" Bella asked. Edward only answered with a nod.

Bella thought about what she knew about humanity during that time in history. Nothing more than scattered tribes ruled by fear and superstitions, they warred with each other violently, seeing the rise of such people as Agamemnon, Nero, Atilla the Hun, Alexander the Great... names that seemed more myth than actual historic fact. It had been an age of kings and barbarian tides. Without realizing it, her shield shifted over Edward and her own insignificance in the enormous arc of history made her feel very small.

"I feel the same," he whispered. When Bella met his eyes again he nodded again. "I know you sometimes feel I've been around so long, but I feel the same as you when I compare my life to Carlisle's. I can't even imagine what it would be like to live for eons such as the oldest of our kind." He shook his head. "To live in that era? To think of yourself as a God among men? Preying on their fears and their beliefs as easily as you plague their lives, only to witness the age of enlightenment as mankind conquered science and reason, solving the riddle of their own evolution, the mystery of the atom, the mastery of space travel? Watching those like you go from feared, to hunted, to finally being vanquished into the realms of mythology, nightmares and dime-store dramas?"

"How did the Volturi defeat them?" Bella asked.

Edward smiled wryly. "Like most men who came to power in that age, they grew arrogant."

"Why do they want to talk to Carlisle?" she asked.

Edward sighed heavily, remembering what Jasper said about Eleazar calling. "Apparently, they know something about Rolle that we don't."

§∞•••∞§

**Paris, France**

Paris at night was a place like no other on earth. Sitting on top of the Arc de Triomphe, the sounds were common enough: the traffic noise from the circle below, the wind whipping over the walls, and the chatter of tourists asking each other in a variety of languages to take their picture. None of these were unusual for any tourist attraction around the world. What made this place unique wasn't the history behind the stone carvings, or names, or the dictators who had stood in the arc's enormous shadow. Sitting on top of the arc made you feel like you were sitting on time immemorial. Napoleon lurked beside the bricks. Hitler sauntered in the shadows. John Kennedy and his young wife danced in the heat ripples over Eternal Flame. They were all here. It felt like a portal to everyone you had ever known; their life forces drawn to this ancient place merely by your presence.

Rachel leaned back into Rolle's arms as they sat in the dusk watching the lights come on all around them in the surrounding city: pinks, golds, whites, and greens. The sky was streaked in dark purples and grays. The streets were fluid streams of whites and reds in both directions of the Champs-Élysées.

"You've been here before," Rolle said.

Though it was not a question, Rachel said, "Yes, many times. We have affiliates that we work with here. I come every year or so." She curled her fingers into his on either side of her body where his arms wrapped around her. "What about you? Have you ever been here before?"

"No," he answered softly.

Rachel laughed and motioned to some tourists on one side of the arc who were posing with the Eiffel Tower in the background. They realized if they held their hand up in just the right place, it looked like they were holding the distant tower in the palm of their hand. Soon, there were a half-dozen people doing the same thing.

Rolle chuckled along with her and nuzzled into her hair with a sigh. He couldn't have explained why, but he knew their time together was soon coming to an end. He brought one of her hands up in front of them, caressing his thumb over her fingers.

"What's your favorite time of year?" he asked, his tone indicating nothing except a desire to hear her talk.

Rachel cuddled back against him with a smile. "Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "The time between fall and winter, I think. The leaves have all changed and most of them have dropped. The winds pick up. It rains more often."

"You like the rain," Rolle repeated, a touch of surprise in his voice. When she nodded, he asked another. "What's your favorite color?"

"R-red, I guess," she said hesitantly after a moment considering her answer.

She felt Rolle's chest bounce with laughter behind her. "I'll take that as a maybe today, and maybe not tomorrow."

"Hey, don't tease," she scolded, bumping backward against him. "What about you?"

"Blue," he answered without hesitation. "That deep, deep blue that's so blue it's almost black."

Now Rachel laughed. "I'll take that as a maybe," she teased.

"What about your favorite instrument?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"To listen to?"

"Yeah."

"Piano. What about you?"

Rolle did not answer quickly this time. He rested his chin on her shoulder and stared out to the La Grande Arche as the colored lights began to reflect off its smooth surface. When he answered, his voice was low and full of meaning. "Cello."

His answer surprised her. "Do you play cello?"

He took one of her fingers between his, sliding his fingertips over her skin. "No, but if I had to pick an instrument that sounded like what my soul would have sounded like... that would be it."

Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion at his choice of words, but just as she took a breath to ask, the cell phone in Rolle's pocket buzzed with a single glass pinging sound.

She sat up and turned to face him. She knew by the resigned and guarded expression on his face who was on the other end of that call.

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, **Songster**, and **LolaShoes**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

joie de vivre  
[Joy of Life]

joie de pouvoir  
[Joy of Power]

Il nettare della morte  
[The nectar of death]

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	10. Chapter 10 For those who watch, beware

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some frequent flyer chic who witnessed a wanna-be terrorist derail airport security by bolting thru a security checkpoint, shouting "I'm King! I'm King!" We don't know why, and we really don't **_**want**_** to know why....**

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* * *

**Chapter 10: For those who watch, beware**

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

Esme's quick steps crunched the now dried leaves that carpeted the forest floor as she hurried to catch up with Carlisle. She did not call out for him. She knew him well enough to know that he'd stop and wait for her if she called to him. By not calling out his name, Carlisle likewise knew that she'd let him wander alone if that was what he needed.

She swallowed her relief when she heard his footsteps stop and wait for her. She wasn't aware of the smile that appeared so naturally on her face when she reached him and saw that he was waiting, looking back for her. Having looked into his eyes so many times, she could see the weariness in him by the set of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. They were little things that anyone else would miss if they didn't know him well. She could also see his relief to have her with him and that meant more to her than anything in the world.

She slid easily into his arms as she had so many times before and curled under his chin. His hands slid over her shoulders, winding around her body as he pulled her closer with a sigh of homecoming.

"Missed you," Esme sighed, stroking his back.

There was wry amusement in his voice when he said, "Edward took me for a ride in his car," as his fingertips traced her ear.

"Did he?" she asked, faking innocence and fighting the tingling that raced up and down her back. She leaned back to look into Carlisle's face, reading his mood. He wouldn't meet her gaze, but she felt his love. "That was nice of him."

He was staring at his fingers on her skin. "Mmm," Carlisle hummed, not fooled at all.

His dexterous fingers found the pins in her hair and gently pulled them free letting her hair fall loosely over her shoulders. Esme watched the fascination in his eyes as he coaxed the remainder of her hair free from the twist with one hand while the other traced down the smooth column of her throat.

"Very nice of him, indeed. Did he think of it on his own?" he murmured, mesmerized by the way her hair slipped through his fingers.

"I may have put the idea in his head," she breathed.

Esme's hands moved over the length of his back, breathing him in deep breaths, letting his presence focus her. He pulled a lock of her hair over her neck with his fingers, trailing them into the hollow of her throat and collarbone, then moving from her hair in favor of her smooth skin.

"It is a very nice car," he muttered absently, his eyes belying the true focus of his thoughts. His eyes were starved for the sight of her and followed the path traced by his fingers along the wide v-neck neckline of her blouse.

"That's why it wasn't hard to..." —she stopped with a gasp as Carlisle's fingers pulled against the material of her shirt to sweep over the curve of her breast— "...to convince him," she sighed with soft moan.

It had been more than a week since he had touched her like this, but to both of them the days had felt like years. His depression had changed everything about his patterns, from their intimacy to his interactions with the outside world. This was the Carlisle she remembered. This was the man she loved.

He still would not meet her burning eyes, knowing if he did, her expression would be his undoing. His wife was too loving, too caring and too connected to him. He knew if he looked into her eyes, he would see her worry and concerns for him mixed with her hunger. If he saw that, his guilt for dragging her down with him, for being unable to hide this turmoil from her, would crush his will to share this with her now. His need for her love, knowing she needed this as desperately as he did, kept his eyes focused only on his exploring fingers.

Her hands clutched the material of his shirt. He pulled the collar of her blouse over one slim shoulder and pressed his lips to the newly exposed skin.

"We're too close to the house," she whispered.

Together and without a sound, they called out to Edward in their minds, _Edward, turn off the yard lights, please! _ Neither of them had any way of knowing that Edward was already occupied with his own wife.

Still, the floodlight behind the house flicked off and on before going out entirely; the family's own version of a necktie on a door knob. It was one of several small ways the younger couples communicated the need for privacy to each other. Carlisle and Esme had never used it before, opting for more prudence about their trysts. Between the four gifted vampires in their family, at least three of them knew when to offer a helping hand when it came to the need for discretion; this time, it was Alice who had stepped up.

His lips parted as he began to lightly suck on her skin, tasting her with his tongue. Cool air touched his chest as she made short work of the buttons on his shirt, spreading the material so she could touch him. Carlisle pulled down the other shoulder of her shirt's neckline past her shoulder, hampered by her own buttons. With a small twist of his fingers, the tiny button relinquished its hold. He took full advantage of the fissure it created and demanded the same obedience from the following buttons until her torso was exposed. Carlisle pressed his palm to the center of her chest with a soft sigh.

Esme knew what he wanted. She ran her hands over his chest, up his neck and into his hair, stretching her arms over him in silent communication. Without pause, he wrapped his arms around her hips and reverently lifted her against him. Esme wrapped her legs around his waist, locking herself to him. Her arms curled around his head as he pressed his face over her heart, surrounding his head with her scent. Her blouse hung from her shoulders now curtaining him off from the rest of the world.

His lips and nose caressed her, slowly sweeping back and forth over the soft slopes that rose on either side, nibbling on her skin, tasting her without venturing outside the valley of her breasts. Her fingers scraped and massaged his scalp. As he grew increasingly intoxicated and urgency overcame him, she heard the soft metallic sound of his belt's clasp. In a single fluid motion, he pulled aside her panties as he crossed his ankles and lowered to the ground, sitting with his legs crossed and her astride him. She pressed against him, taking him into her body with a slow steady push.

Carlisle's breath came in short pants against her chest. She placed her hands on either side of his head, lifting his face to hers and tightening her legs around him. She became still waiting for him to open his eyes. He fought again to not look at her by keeping his eyes closed, but he could feel her insistence that he open them. With a light sigh, he looked at her and froze in her gaze. There was no worry there, no pain. There was only her love for him, her devotion, her constancy. She looked steadily at him with eternity in her eyes.

He swallowed hard, mesmerized.

A tender smile began to tug at her lips as her thumbs stroked his cheeks. She kissed his forehead and trailed her lips to his eyelids, then his nose. She pulled back slightly and he fell into her eyes once again; willingly now, eagerly. As she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, she rocked over him, taking his small moan as a gift. She moved slowly, taking him deeper with each pass, pressing chaste kisses lightly to his lips. He did not guide her or challenge her. He sat utterly undone beneath her and let his wife heal him with her love.

Long past their climax, they sat unchanged, still connected physically and reconnecting spiritually within the circle of each other's arms, until they heard Jasper calling to them from the house in quiet apology.

§∞•••∞§

Bella stood at the window looking at the spot where Edward had disappeared into the forest. He had decided to quickly feed before the Romanians arrived. She stared at the water dripping slowly from the boughs of the ancient trees that surrounded the yard. It was odd to think of the Volturi and Romanians becoming vampires when these giants were delicate seedlings. In an odd way, they grew up together, watched the earth and all those on it evolve for millennia. Even though they were alike in age and in their towering presence over all those younger, they were impressively indifferent to each other with one striking difference; _these_ sentinels watched in silence, unconcerned with the daily goings on at their feet. The ancient vampires did not.

She silently wished the Volturi could be just as indifferent towards her. She thought back to their first meeting. It seemed so long ago, and she had been so afraid for Edward. The entire event was clouded by her exhaustion and emotions, and obscured further since her change. What she remembered the most, however, was Jane's attack on Edward and the excruciating pain carved into his face. Bella wrapped her arms around herself with a shudder. She wondered if they would do the same to Rolle.

Alice walked across the living room toward Bella and silently wrapped her arms around her.

"Hi," Bella said surprised and confused, returning the hug. Alice did not respond with her usual good cheer. In fact, she felt almost small and wilted in Bella's arms. "What's wrong?" she whispered to her friend and sister.

Alice took a long slow breath as if it caused great exertion. "This is how it starts," Alice whispered back.

"How what starts?" Bella asked before remembering what Alice had said about happiness and worry going hand in hand. She had said that when you're happy, your only worry was losing that happiness. Bella stroked Alice's hair and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you," Alice said.

"I love you, too, Alice," Bella told her and squeezed her tighter, before asking again, "Please tell me what you see."

"The Romanians will be here in less than an hour," Alice whispered. "They're going to tell us what they know about Rolle, and then Carlisle will decide that it isn't safe for anyone if Rolle stays with the Volturi so he'll go to Italy."

Bella tried to understand the worry behind Alice's vision, but could not find it. "Why is that bad?"

Alice started to shake in Bella's arms. "I don't see him coming home," she breathed, her voice filled with fear.

Bella felt an icy chill race down her spine. "Then we can't let him go alone."

Even before all the words were past her lips, Alice was shaking her head.

"We'll protect him," Bella assured, but Alice still shook her head, now gulping silent tears. "What happens, Alice? What happens to Carlisle?" she insisted as Jasper hurried into the living room to find his distraught wife.

"He doesn't want to live anymore," Alice whispered so low that Bella wasn't even sure she heard her right.

"Shh," Jasper soothed as he took Alice from Bella and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm here, darlin'. Shh..."

Jasper sent out waves of calm to comfort Alice as he pressed kisses to her temple and rocked her against his chest. Even Bella began to feel better as his influence fell over her.

It occurred to her then that when Alice spoke of her fear of losing happiness, she wasn't speaking in general terms. She was speaking about herself.

§∞•••∞§

The airport shuttle car from the Stanfield International Airport was less-than-luxurious even though this particular airport was North America's closest continental link to Europe. The large Ford Cosmos was fashioned after the old Taurus model at the end of the gas-guzzler era. It was blocky and utilitarian, but efficient and had all-wheel drive: a must in this part of the country ten months out of the year. It easily crunched up the driveway to the Cullen's home.

Rosalie, Bella and Emmett watched the car approach and come to a stop several feet from the porch steps. The driver did not get out of the car. The rear passenger door was opened from the inside and pushed out. Stefan exited the car first and studied them before stepping aside to allow Vladimir out.

Despite their immortality, their faces were younger than the youngest Cullens expected. To their eyes, the Romanians barely appeared to be eighteen years old. It wasn't their youthful faces that were disarming, however. It was their skin — thin and translucent like you'd find on an onion, and their eyes, not just red but a strange burgundy. It was Vladimir's odd shaped that confused them the most. A dark voluminous jacket failed at its attempt to hide his odd form. Though he stood upright, it almost looked as if he suffered from scoliosis: one shoulder seemed level, but the other appeared to be tucked down, hidden in the great folds.

The newcomers turned together and looked up at the Cullens gathered on the porch. The two groups continued to quickly scrutinize each other before Carlisle and Edward joined them. As Stefan and Vladimir recognized Carlisle, they nodded.

"Stefan," Carlisle greeted, coming down the short flight of steps toward them. "Vladimir," he added in a subtle questioning tone. _What's wrong with him?_ Carlisle thought, discreetly noticing the unusual fit of his jacket. "It's been a long time."

Both visitors nodded slightly to return the greeting. "Eleazar called us to say you agreed to meet with us willingly," Vladimir began, leaving the implication that the meeting would have happened unwillingly if necessary.

"And we are eager to hear your version of the events leading up to the attack on you and your coven," Stefan picked up where Vladimir had left off.

"Because you need to understand why we are concerned that the boy is now in the hands of the Volturi," Vladimir finished as if they had choreographed the conversation in advance.

Carlisle was quietly surprised by the amount of information the Romanians were giving up so early into their visit. He nodded respectfully and motioned them forward. "Please come in and we can talk."

Edward and Emmett conveniently reached for and framed either side door, knowingly shielding their wives from the visitors but not doing so in a blatant manner.

Carlisle met Edward's eye a moment. _ Are they serious?_

Edward nodded in answer to the silent question: Yes, they were very serious. The only part Edward could not relay to Carlisle was the fact that the Romanians were also afraid.

"Do you mind if the rest of my family joins us?" Carlisle asked out of respect.

Vladimir and Stefan exchanged looks, before Stefan asked, "Did they also interact with the boy?"

Carlisle's brow went up. "Of course. He stayed with us a little over a month. He spent time with everyone."

"Yes, of course, by all means," Stefan answered as they followed Carlisle into the dining room.

"He stayed as long as that?" Vladimir asked. "Willingly?"

"Of course, willingly," Edward answered out of turn.

Both Romanians turned to regard him as the rest of the family joined them around the dining table. Esme went to Carlisle's side, while Jasper and Alice hovered near the hall.

"You were the first to interact with him," Vladimir said, addressing Edward in a way that was and was not a question.

Edward first reaction was to take offense to the statement. "He was my friend," he answered before he fully grasped Vladimir's thoughts. The elder was simply amazed that Rolle had made friends and stayed because he wanted to.

Vladimir turned to his associate. Stefan had the exact same reaction to this, though his was verbal. "Friend?" Together they turned and looked at Edward.

"Despite what you think, Rolle has been a long-time and loyal friend to my family," Carlisle said. Esme slid her hand onto his shoulder at his words. "We have reason to believe that his actions, while extreme, were only meant to protect us."

"How long?" Stefan asked abruptly.

Carlisle looked to Edward to answer. "I first met him in 1962."

"Sixty-two," Vladimir repeated. _Only a year after he left us, _Edward heard him think.

"You knew him?" Edward questioned immediately startling all the Cullens with this information. "How did you know him?"

"We have known of him since the beginning," Stefan began.

"Many things we thought we knew then have been confirmed," Vladimir added. "More we have learned since then."

"Marcus was the one," Stefan admitted, "but he had no idea what he had made."

Vladimir picked up the volley. "His mate was lost as the boy changed, and Marcus had no interest in him after that."

The Cullens listened to this admission, but did not contribute what they knew of Rolle's past to the elders. It seemed more important at the moment to learn all they could from the Romanians before making a decision about how much to share in return. Carlisle glanced at Alice, then Jasper, and finally Edward, as the elders spoke, looking to each of them to keep him apprised of the meeting and its progress.

Not for the first time, Carlisle wished he had his son's ability to read minds. Alice appeared relaxed, as if she could see that the meeting would end well. Jasper nodded when he felt Carlisle's gaze pass over him. The gesture could have meant anything, but Carlisle chose to interpret this as meaning that the Romanians were being truthful. Knowing that Edward would read this from his mind as well as what Jasper truly meant by nodding, Carlisle knew that Edward would be able to assure him that he was accurately interpreting the others.

Another key indicator, however, was Edward's stance with Bella. It had always been an unconscious action on Edward's part until he heard Carlisle silently considering it. When there was danger or uncertainty in any situation, Edward always placed himself half of a step ahead of Bella, angling himself into any potential line-of-fire.

At the moment, Edward stood side by side with Bella who was listening intently to the story of Rolle's past. Hearing Carlisle's silent scrutiny, Edward slid his arm around her waist to reassure him.

"We have not been able to confirm this, but we believe we were the first of our kind the boy encountered when he ventured from the sea," Stefan was saying.

"He was confused and untrained," Vladimir added.

"You have witnessed his gift?" Stefan asked.

"Yes," Carlisle answered for the family. "Some saw him attack and destroy another vampire, and experienced a noise that made them feel sick. The rest of us saw him attack Emmett," Carlisle gestured to his son, "and create a state similar to unconsciousness."

Vladimir turned to Stefan. "That is new."

"His power grows," Stefan agreed.

"Great," Rosalie muttered.

Stefan gazed at Rose a moment and then said, "You are right to worry." He turned to Carlisle. "This power comes without control."

"Seemed pretty controlled to us," Jasper volunteered.

"What did you see?" Vladimir asked.

Jasper glanced at Carlisle who nodded. Jasper described again what they saw that day: hearing the fight, finding Rolle in hand-to-hand combat with Demetri, but here, Jasper carefully left out his name. He spoke of the noise they heard, how they could see the sound waves in the rain, and the immense discomfort the sound had caused. Vladimir and Stefan only interrupted twice to ask simple questions and Jasper clarified his account of the events.

"Did you know he could do this?" Esme asked, speaking up for the first time.

Stefan turned to meet his brother's eyes, but for the first time since they arrived, Vladimir did not step to the same dance. His ashy blond head was bowed slightly as he considered the table's surface with intense scrutiny.

"We have long searched for a way to defeat our enemy," Vladimir began, "but our patience after so long had begun to chafe. When we found the boy in our land, we thought him nothing more than a newborn and treated him with disdain at his insolence. When he was provoked by our servant, he retaliated with such a power as we had never witnessed before."

"We thought at last we had found our path back to power," Stefan added hesitantly, as if unsure he should speak.

"We took the boy in hoping to learn more about this ability, but as we sought to test him we found he had no control over it."

"Test him?" Esme asked, horrified.

"My God," Edward breathed, reading the memories that boiled to the surface in the elder's minds. "You intentionally had him attack people? Humans?"

"We had to know how his power affected them, yes," Stefan answered as if this were nothing of importance. "The noise the boy generates disrupts the molecular structure of the cells. For mortals, this results in organs simply exploding when they are struck during this phase of his attack. For our kind..."

Alice winced, grasping Jasper's arm. Edward hiss was a sound of anger as he heard Stefan finish the thought in his mind, but the low din lacked the growl of warning.

Stefan's voice faded and he turned to his brother again. Vladimir still regarded the delicate grain of the wooden surface before inhaling sharply and pulling his coat from his shoulders to reveal the hanging cloth around his torso. He grasped the cloth over his chest and pulled up the slack. The left arm was gone. The collar barely held around his neck for the entire shoulder was also missing. When he pulled the material tighter it continued to bunch up until it drew firmly over his body again near his sternum.

"Jesus!" Emmett gasped, as Rosalie's matching gasp was far less lady-like in the form of a curse.

Carlisle had the mask of an emergency room doctor firmly settled on his face. He showed neither surprise nor shock at what he guessed was missing beneath the cloth barrier. "Rolle did this?" he asked in a carefully clinical voice.

Vladimir nodded in silence.

Stefan went to his damaged side. "We needed to know the boy's trigger and how far his control could be pressed."

Unlike Carlisle, Edward had no problem with letting his disgust and shock show on his face as he heard this memory as well. He swallowed hard and pulled Bella into his arms.

"Though this test was our biggest failure, it was also the most enlightening," Stefan said on behalf of his brother.

"We had begun to suspect the boy was influenced by those around him," Vladimir admitted. "If he were surrounded with inebriated mortals, he became involved in bar fights. If he were associating with a child, he expressed child-like wonder and innocence. To test this, we took him to a gulag we use when the occasion warrants such a necessity. He immediately became excitable and anxious. We pressed him to enter."

"How did you survive?" Carlisle asked bluntly. "Why did it only affect part of you?"

"We believe his power was still too unwieldy for the boy," Stefan said as he rested his hand on Vladimir's one remaining shoulder, and then added, "Based on his reaction to his attack on Vladimir, we also believe that he was not aware that he was perpetrating these deaths and injuries."

"He didn't know he could... do what he does?" Esme asked in amazement, even though her tone betrayed her sadness for Rolle's sake.

"We only came to this understanding before he fled the gulag," Stefan answered. "As you can appreciate, this detail was not a priority for us after that."

"You started the rumors," Edward said, his voice low and confused. "You were the ones who called him an assassin."

"That was unfortunate and unintentional," Stefan admitted. "We did not want _anyone_ to know of the boy or his potential. We knew the Italians would not rest until they had added him to their collection."

"This is why we have come," Vladimir said in a firm clear voice. "We needed to confirm our suspicions."

"Suspicions about what?" Carlisle asked.

"You." The answer was delivered as a matter of fact.

Carlisle was stunned. "Me??"

"We know you to be a man of quiet ways," Vladimir said, "and yet you and your coven were attacked. If our findings were correct and his environment and associations influence the boy, then we were wrong about you and you harbored more desire for power than we believed."

"What?" Carlisle exclaimed, gaping at them.

"When the boy is around calming influences, he remains calm. When he is around violent influences, he becomes violent," Vladimir responded staring at Carlisle almost accusing.

Emmett stepped protectively to Carlisle's side, challenging, "And Rolle did that to you?" He indicated the injury Rolle had delivered to the Romanian.

Vladimir slowly shifted his gaze to the large youth. A warning flashed in his burgundy eyes. "The gulag housed the most violent offenders of man. We sought to understand the limits and strengths of the boy's power. Instead, we learned how these outside influences cause him to react."

"The boy sought you out, repeatedly," Stefan added quickly to diffuse the quickly mounting tension, knowing how Vladimir's mood could darken when he felt weak due to his disfigurement. "He stayed, willingly. He could come and go as he pleased, and he _returned_... as he pleased. Now, after almost sixty years, he attacks. Why?" Stefan asked, directing this last statement to Edward.

"To protect me," Bella said in a clear and level voice.

Both elders turned to look at her, openly skeptical. They had both heard rumors of her and found it hard to believe that a 'shield' such as she, already protected by seven coven members, could possibly need protecting.

"Explain," they said at the same time.

Bella quavered under their combined stares, but she refused to show them how they affected her. She raised her chin and straightened her back, even as her fingers clutched the back of Edward's shirt.

"I remind him of someone he lost, someone he loved," she began.

"He has feelings for you?" Stefan asked.

Edward's unexpected low growl was directed at Vladimir. Questioning eyes of gold flashed to him, some wide with surprise, others furrowed in confusion. The sneer of menace on Edward's face prompted Jasper to send a calming wave to him. Sensing this, and hearing Jasper's cautioning thoughts, Edward threw up a halting hand but never took his eyes from Vladimir.

"What are your intentions?" Edward demanded in a low, tightly controlled voice.

Vladimir returned Edward's hard look with stony resolve, but said nothing.

"Edward?" Carlisle's inquiry went without recognition.

"If you came here seeking answers, you will find us cooperative," Edward warned Vladimir. "If you came here to use us... to use my _wife_ against the Volturi, then I'll finish the damage Rolle started."

The entire family tensed at this news. Alice and Rose sliding closer to Bella's side. Their dark expressions were frightening. Even Esme's normally kind eyes were hard with warning to not mess with her family.

"Rolle doesn't love me!" Bella insisted. "I just remind him of someone he loved, someone he lost."

Vladimir's gaze shifted quickly to hers to look for deceit and, finding none, back to Edward who was still in a threatening posture. "Explain," he clipped.

Bella slid her hand into Edward's before saying, "He found his," she paused, realizing she'd need to use words they would fully understand, "..._mate_... while he was still human. She was killed and watching her die broke him." She waited for this to sink in, and when Vladimir's implacable expression shifted, and Edward's fingers curled around hers, she continued. "He was changed shortly after. He and Edward know each other. They're friends." She secretly wondered if they would understand something as commonplace as friendship. "When he learned about me and Edward, and our feelings for each other, he swore he would protect me, to protect his friend from ever experiencing that loss."

Stefan's eyes narrowed. "He attacked your coven to protect you?" he asked skeptically.

"He made us think he was attacking us, to fool the Volturi," Bella explained with a nod. She turned her attention to her husband, rubbing a hand over his arm to soothe him.

"Why did the boy need to create such a ruse?" Vladimir asked, and the tension in the room slowly began to drop.

"They sent Marcus," Carlisle said, needing to draw the Romanian's attention away from his daughter. He knew this, alone, should explain Rolle's need to create the performance. If Vladimir and Stefan accepted that Rolle was treated as a friend to the family, then it made sense that a vampire with skills to sense emotional ties would need to be convinced that no such bonds existed.

Stefan and Vladimir gazed openly at each other a moment. It was as if the two elders were sharing a private conversation without the need for words. As Vladimir nodded once, Edward visibly relaxed at whatever he had overheard and pulled Bella into his arms, cuddling her close.

Stefan stood and moved to Carlisle with an open hand. "I will tell you what we know and," the dark-haired vampire added slowly, "what we fear will come to pass."

Carlisle grasped his hand with a nod. "We'd welcome it."

"We have long suspected that, at least for this phase of your existence, you have no desire for power," Stefan said. "Perhaps with your odd ways, you never will. It is because of your lack of ambition that we never worried about the boy being in your presence. He demonstrated no deleterious behavior. All evidence seemed to confirm your calm and quiet dispositions to be a balm to him. It was his demeanor around your coven that convinced us of your true natures, so when he suddenly attacked you..."

"You thought we were suddenly a new threat," Jasper finished.

"The boy draws from the influences around him," Vladimir added by way of agreeing with Jasper's assessment.

"Which is why it is imperative that he be removed from the Volturi's control immediately," Stefan urged, speaking to Carlisle.

Emmett snorted sarcastically. "So they can't use him the way you wanted to?"

Stefan turned a disturbingly desperate expression to Emmett. "No!" he said in earnest, "because he will destroy us all!"

Silence filled the room and hung motionless in the air as the Cullens waited for the rest of this proclamation. When nothing was forthcoming, they hid their response to this obvious over-reaction. Only Jasper remained open to hearing more. He did not think vampires as old as these would be prone to dramatic over-emphasis, and he knew their anxiety ran deep.

"Why do you say that?" he asked quietly.

"The boy is unstable," Vladimir said. "He has minimal control of this power he wields, and that power is..." He hesitated, pulling the lapel of his coat up for emphasis. "Considerable. In the wrong hands, he will become exactly what he has the potential to become."

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked, his

"He'll kill hundreds without even trying," Vladimir said flatly.

"We are not convinced, once begun, that he would be able to stop," Stefan added.

"Why do you think that?" Bella asked.

Neither of the Romanians answered or responded in any way. The utter lack of their silent non-verbal communication, when they had been almost dancing through their conversations, was glaring and obvious.

Edward gasped and stiffened. "They...." He stopped and swallowed, looking up at Carlisle with a face full of shock and pain. "They organized an attack. Twelve vampires, nine newborns." Edward couldn't put words to the terrible things he could see in their minds. He simply shook his head.

"Twenty-one?" Jasper repeated. "By himself?"

Rose's delicate brow was furrowed deep with worry. She was staring at some scene in her mind's eye when she whispered, "How long? How long did it take him to....?"

Edward shook his head again. "With his speed, it would have looked instantaneous."

Silence again fell over the room as the Cullens shared an unspoken conversation simply by meeting each other's eyes. In some ways, the Romanians confirmed many things. In other ways, they added the weight of responsibility to the weight of concern the family was already feeling.

Carlisle was the first to speak. His normal unconscious human reactions were noticeably missing. He did not breathe. He did not rub a worried hand over his head. He did not cross his legs. He merely drew a single breath to form a single question.

"What are you asking us to do?"

Vladimir rose to his feet. "The boy cannot remain with the Volturi. He must be removed from their control or destroyed."

Bella clutched Edward as he moved to lunge forward, throwing her shield out to him, and shouting _No_ to stop and still him from the reaction she knew he was having.

"We need to discuss this as a family," she said smoothly, if a little too loud. Her volume was the only sign of her distress.

Carlisle stood and nodded before turning to the Romanian brothers. "Give us a moment, please. You have the hospitality of our land."

Together, as if they had reformed their physical connection, the brothers nodded together and Stefan picked up Vladimir's coat before they walked out of the room and left the house.

It was quiet again as the family's reaction slowly began to crack from their business-like control. Rose summed up everyone's thoughts with the utmost eloquence by exclaiming,

"What the _fuck_??"

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, **Songster**, and **LolaShoes**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

I want to send out a special thanks to **LolaShoes** for her review of this story for "The Fictionators" blog. You can read it here bit(dot)ly/djpD3T

Stories are like children. They grow and develop. With love and luck, they will grow and develop to their full potential. An author's previewers and betas are like the women in your family who help you raise that child. The women who help me with this story as every bit as invaluable to me as sisters. I can never thank them enough.

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	11. Chapter 11 uneasy lies the head

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to a crazy outta-control home appliance nerd who was giggling like a kid at Christmas about getting a new clothes washer. We don't know why, and we really don't **_**want**_** to know why....**

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**Chapter 11: ****uneasy lies the head that wears a crown**

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

Carlisle returned to his seat at the large dining room table resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, his fingers pressed thoughtfully against his lips. He met Edward's eyes and the silence in the room continued. The entire family looked between the two men expectantly and waited.

"Can you please not do that?" Esme pleaded softly.

Edward shook his head and looked at her. "He's not thinking anything." His gaze went back to his father. "It's like you're completely shut down, caught here in this moment, in this room."

Carlisle sighed softly and guilt clouded his eyes. He spoke around his fingers. "I don't know what to think."

_It's the depression,_ Jasper thought to Edward, watching Carlisle. _It's like his will has disappeared._

Edward's shoulders sagged with regret. He was saved from saying anything as Emmett fell heavily into a chair next to Carlisle.

"Well, that explains a lot," he huffed. "No wonder the poor guy wanted to hang around with us."

"Poor guy?" Rosalie scoffed. "That _poor guy_ ripped your arm off."

Emmett frowned and waved his hand dismissively in the air. "Enh, that was nothing. It was no worse than breaking a human's arm: hurts for a while, but heals fast. He could have ripped off my head," he reminded his wife.

"Which he nearly did to Carlisle!" Rose reminded him heatedly, unwilling to be as magnanimous as her husband.

"But he didn't," Emmett replied, "and now we know why." He ran a heavy hand over the top of his head. "Jeez, do you think..." He paused to consider what he was about to say and looked at Edward. "Do you think he only ever came out of the water just to see us?"

All eyes turned to Emmett as they considered what he was saying.

"Maybe some part of him knew it was better there," Emmett mused softly. "I bet it was the only time he could find peace, away from all the influences of other people, a place to dull the things getting into his head that he didn't even realize was happening to him. The world's oceans... The largest sensory deprivation tank," he huffed with an ironic smile on his face.

Carlisle gazed at his youngest son and reached his hand out, placing it on Emmett's shoulder. Being the most direct of them all, Emmett never failed to see to the heart of any situation.

"Carlisle," Edward interrupted softly, "I can't let Rolle do this. I can't." He shook his head.

"We can't," Bella agreed, making the minor correction without emphasis.

She moved away from Edward and sat in the other free chair beside Carlisle. Esme reached out and stroked a loving hand against Bella's shoulder as she sat.

Bella took Carlisle's hand between her own. She stared at his fingers in hers. They were the same in texture, but different. While hers were shorter and more delicate looking, his were longer and stronger. His wedding band rested slightly loose between his knuckles.

"I know," she began," that this isn't all about Rolle. I know you believe it was all staged and that he would have never really hurt us. But you also know he's not in any state of mind to make a decision like this. What he's done... it's not a sacrifice," she said, looking up into Carlisle's eyes. "It's a sentence."

Carlisle watched Bella, listening without commenting.

"I'm not even close to living one lifetime, let alone five, and I haven't seen everything you have seen." She paused and glanced away nervously before finding her strength to say what needed to be said. "But I have lived through depression, so I know something about what you're feeling right now.

"I know why you can't make a decision about what we should do," she said tenderly. "Why you feel like everything is helpless, and why the world feels like it's without hope and can't be fixed. You can't explain why everything irritates you, and you feel guilty for things even if they're outside of your control. You stop eating. You feel empty. You feel tired. You stop doing things you used to love. And even though you're surrounded by people who love you... you feel alone... worthless," she added in a breath.

Esme put her hands on Carlisle's shoulders and squeezed gently.

Bella glanced quickly at Edward and enveloped him in her shield, comforting him as she knew her words were reopening wounds that had long since been closed. Edward mustered a reassuring smile for her as he felt her thoughts curl through his mind with loving familiarity, even though he knew she was refraining from adding out loud her comments about suicide. Though Bella herself had never contemplated suicide, she did tempt fate by taking risks that almost led to her death. Carlisle, on the other hand, _had_ attempted to kill himself: many, many times.

"We know there's nothing we can do to help you," Bella said. "That all we can do is be here for you until you need us. And I know that knowing this will only add to your sense of guilt."

Carlisle chuckled humorlessly and squeezed her fingers.

"But we can't wait now," Bella said sounding both resolved and still gentle. "We have to do something before Rolle gets hurt, or killed. Or before he does something that will affect everyone. We have to go to Italy."

Behind her, Alice bit her lip, her brow deeply creased.

Carlisle's eyes were apologetic and sad, but he smiled and brought Bella's fingers to his lips, kissing them as he reached out to cup her cheek in his hand.

"You always surprise me," he said, his voice breaking. He looked around at his family. "All of you. Each one of you..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "So remarkable, so full of love." He looked at Rosalie, then Emmett. "Fiercely loyal, and so compassionate." His eyes wandered around the room to Alice, Jasper and Edward. "So bright, strong, determined."

"You gave us that," Esme whispered, leaning over her husband's chair.

Carlisle shook his head. "No, you were always like this. All of you."

"You nurtured those things in us," Rosalie said unexpectedly. "You made it... safe for us to be those things," she added quiet and uncomfortable, but wanting him to know the truth.

Emmett beamed up at his wife, rising to stand with her and pulled her into his arms.

Surprise and gratitude colored Carlisle's face. As he gazed at Rose, it all melted into affection. He looked back at the gentle fingers still caught in his own, and looked up at Bella's expectant face.

"We have a friend to help," he said simply, and Bella's face broke into a warm smile.

The spark of happiness could not last long though, as the decision to do something was the least dangerous. The first step taken, they now began to think of the second: What would they do?

With a decision made, Alice took a deep breath as the future began to reveal itself once again. The second breath shuddered in her chest. The third was a gasp. Every one after that came faster and shorter, as if she could hyperventilate.

As her visions washed over him, Edward reeled and threw out his hand to catch himself.

§∞•••∞§

**Paris, France**

Rolle answered the phone without saying a word: no hello, no pronouncement of who was answering. Marcus simply gave him a flight number and a time, and hung up. Rolle held the phone to his ear a moment longer, looking at Rachel. He watched as understanding wiped the smile from her face. He lowered the phone and turned it off, returning it to his pants pocket.

Rachel watched his face, asking only, "When?"

"An hour."

She struggled to hide the disappointment from her face, only partly succeeding. She tried again to school her features as she laced her fingers into his. Rolle watched her struggle, but could do nothing to make this easier for her. She swallowed back her feelings and stood up, keeping her hand in his to help pull him up.

"You shouldn't be late," she said, knowing this was always only a brief fling in a foreign country, nothing more than a business convention love affair.

They caught the elevator down to ground level without another word, and found the tunnel under the street. As they walked hand in hand down the darkened streets, streetlights struggled through autumn leaves to illuminate the damp sidewalk.

Rolle looked up through the trees. A full moon glared back at him, its malevolent eye accusing and condemning in its instant appraisal of him. Rolle imagined he could see the rest of the baleful face sneering back at him just out of view, with dark brows drawn down in judgment.

Just as he was about to look away, his eyes fell across a third floor balcony. The silk curtain was drawn closed. Light filtered through the material in a rosy peach glow. Something about the window drew him the same way Rachel had drawn him. His life was dark and wet, and she was the hint of color and light he could glimpse, but never know.

She trudged beside him so resolved, so strong, walking through the darkness with him, unafraid. She was an angel of strength, affirming to him that he was on the right path. This was her gift to him. This gentle seraph had given him a last glimpse of happiness before he succumbed to the wills of greater demons. He could only live up to Rachel's example as he headed into the abyss of Hell. He wondered for a moment if Gillian had sent her to him, to remind him of what he was protecting.

He followed Rachel down the stairs into the metro. She never released his hand, pulling him along. He smiled wryly. As if he could forget the path he was on. He looked down at her hand in his as it trailed slightly behind her, carefully adjusting the pressure of his fingers on hers into a gentle squeeze. The gesture made him think of Edward and the weight of his actions only strengthened his determination, like waves beating against a lighthouse: the puzzle blocks interlocking under the storm, reinforcing it during the tempest, not weakening it.

Wind preceded the train, pushing the warm air at them as a low rumble filled the chamber around the platform. The warmth reminded him of Rachel's breath on his ear as her body pressed against his.

The engine of the train roared past them, slowing, as Rachel turned and looked at him. Rolle stepped toward her and she tipped her head back to keep his eyes locked in her own. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers slowly. He slid the tip of his nose against her cheek, but he did not deepen the kiss. It was chaste and sweet, but he drew it out, savoring her as something precious.

The small sound that escaped her would have gone unheard by a human, but it was cemented in his mind just as the smell of cooked butter and diesel fumes became a fixed point in his memory identifying this moment in time forever. The same was true of the feel of the uneven cobbles under his feet, and the small pinging sound from a bent fan blade, and the sound of a musician inside the train playing the last notes of _Double Jeu_ faded and the sound of coins fell into a tin can... The warmth of her fingers in his...

The doors of the train slid open, and a throng of people washed around them like water moving around rocks in a stream. Then the platform ledge was clear.

Rolle stepped back and turned to the train, pausing in the door and glancing back at her. Rachel smiled briefly and raised her hand. Rolle nodded and turned to step deeper into the train. He reached out to hold a pole as the train pulled away, anchoring a piece of himself there in time.

He did not look back again, but he did not say goodbye. It was the only thing he couldn't bring himself to do.

§∞•••∞§

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

"Edward!" Bella cried as she raced around the table and was at Edward's side in an instant. She caught his face in her hands looking worriedly into his eyes.

"I'm okay," he gasped wrapping his hands around hers. He looked at his sister who was gathered up in Jasper's arms. "None of those are certain?" he asked, stronger.

"What? What did you see?" Rose insisted from Alice.

Alice shook her head in answer to Edward, and explained to the others, "There are too many possibilities. So much depends on who goes."

"But what did you see?" Rose asked again.

It was obvious Alice did not want to answer. Instead, she gave half of an answer. "People dying. A lot of people. Vampires."

"Who?" Esme asked.

"There's too much," Alice insisted. "There are too many possibilities and all of them are based on decisions that haven't even been thought of yet."

"But part of the decision of who goes will...? What?" Emmett asked. "Keep casualties down?"

"You can't go," Alice said quickly. "Emmett can't go, no matter what."

Rose took a blind step forward, her face frozen and controlled. "Or what? He'll die?"

Alice would not answer, but she did not look away from Rose's burning eyes.

"Stop! Stop!" Carlisle said at last, rising from his chair. "We can't do this," he insisted. "Without a plan, we can't start making random choices waiting for Alice to see which will work."

"I don't know about that," Rose muttered. "I already have a few decisions made."

"Rose," Carlisle said in a tone that let her know she wasn't helping. "Please, everyone, sit and let's discuss this before Alice and Edward fall down."

"Like that could happen," Emmett snickered.

Carlisle gave Emmett the same look he had just given Rose.

Once everyone was seated, Carlisle looked at Alice. "Tell us," he said gently.

"I don't— !" she tried to say again, but Carlisle reassured her.

"I understand, but can you tell us the most obvious?"

Alice looked imploringly at Bella, who reached across the table and took the seer's hand in her own. Alice then looked to Edward who nodded encouragingly to her.

"We can't all go," Alice began. "I know everyone wants to, but we can't. Having all eight of us show up, unannounced and uninvited in Volterra, will appear as a threat and confirm Caius' notions about us.

_Do I have to tell them who dies?_ Alice silently asked her brother, sharing a pained looked with Edward who already knew the answer to that question.

Edward shook his head once, his eyes tense with the knowledge of who _would_ die if they all went to Volterra.

"So who stays behind?" Emmett asked, adding gruffly disappointed, "besides me."

"Rose can't go. Emmett won't let her go without him," Alice said.

"You got that right," Emmett maintained resolutely.

"So we're left behind alone?" Rose challenged.

"I can't go either," Alice said. "Jasper won't let me go back there alone again after what happened last time, and with both of us there it will be too tempting for the Volturi to... find a way to convince us to stay," she edited awkwardly.

When Alice did not offer more information, Esme glanced around the table. She did not need to do the math.

"We have to go," Edward added interrupting the quiet and looking at his wife. He would rather not take Bella back to that city, but knew she would never let him go without her, just as he would not allow her to go without him. "Rolle will listen to us."

"And Aro will listen to me," Carlisle added, then added again, "I hope."

Esme looked between the three of them. "Then I'm going."

"Esme..." Carlisle tried to say.

"No. I'm going, or I'll go insane waiting, so I'm coming with you." Her tone did not leave room for argument. She turned in her chair and stared directly at Carlisle. "You need me," she said quietly, but firmly, "and I need you."

Carlisle took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. He knew she was right, more than she even realized herself. Despite his feelings of being alone, he knew he'd be much worse off without her. She was his strength when he had none of his own. He felt a swell of love for her even as the feeling was muffled with unworthiness.

"The four of us, then," he said softly with a nod.

Jasper looked around the table, fighting his own dread over these decisions. "The Romanians will want to go, but we can't let them," he stated, ever the strategist. "If they show up with you, Caius will assume we've created an alliance with their enemies. He won't give you time to explain. He'll attack on sight."

"So the four of us?" Bella asked Alice. "If we four go, we'll be safe?"

Alice tightened her fingers around Bella's clasping hand. "That gets you to the audience chamber without being attacked first."

"Wait! That's it??" Emmett demanded.

"I can't tell what Rolle will do," Alice admitted pained. "I don't know how he'll react to seeing Bella and Edward putting themselves at risk for him."

"But that isn't good enough! They can't—" Emmett started to argue, but Jasper cut across him.

"We do know what to look for though," he added urgently, leaning over the table and looking intently between Carlisle and Edward. "_We_ know Rolle. We know things about him that they don't know. He fidgets when he's upset, shuffles from foot to foot," Jasper reminded them.

"And he's really still when he's broken or thinking about Gillian," Bella added, remembering how Rolle had stood as still as a statue on the porch of the house back in Forks.

"And I can't hear him," Edward said.

"If Carlisle and Aro can talk in private, things are more hopeful. If Caius is there..." Alice said, shaking her head and trailing off.

"I don't know how willing Aro will be to talk without the guard present," Edward pointed out, skeptical.

Carlisle nodded, but said nothing. Esme watched him a moment, but when he simply turned to look at her with blank eyes, she stood and took charge.

"Emmett, can you arrange the first flight out, please? Carlisle? Jasper? You'll go talk to the Romanians. Tell them we'll do what we can, but we'll do it our way and will let them know if we're successful. Rose, can you help us pack?"

"I'll make arrangements for a car, too," Rose said.

"Thank you," Esme said gratefully. "Alice?"

"Money and passports," Alice said, knowing her assignment before it was assigned.

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **As always, my thanks to my previewers: **Irishgirl**, **Milalencar**, **Songster**, and **LolaShoes**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown  
_Henry The Fourth, Part 2 Act 3, scene 1, 26–31_


	12. Chapter 12 Love has led me here

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to this very odd bird in Michigan. She travels all over the country and always arranges to meet Twilight fans wherever she is. She also finds fans in Michigan and brings stray fans into her world with promises of brownies. We don't know why, but the brownies kickass....**

Check out my blog for updates:  gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

* * *

**Chapter 12: ****Love has led me here, the ****Death of Eurydice**

The more time he had spent with Rachel, the more Rolle felt the imperative conviction of his promise to Edward and Bella. It had been sixty-six years since he had been intimate with anyone. Gillian hadn't been his only lover, but she had been his last. She had replaced every other encounter he'd ever had. Even though he was incapable of forgetting them, nothing compared to her. She had shown him how pale they had been, how incomplete. Though he had found satisfaction, he had no idea how insignificant those affairs had been until her light had shown him how it _could_ be. She had found and filled all the dark corners of his heart; empty spaces he didn't even know existed.

With her absence, he knew them all now.

Rachel's warmth and tender kindness couldn't fill those places, but she had tried. After almost seventy years, she had been a light rain on barren land and he drank her in like a greedy thief, stealing that moment with complete disregard, but the consequences were there waiting for him with a frothing grin.

Rolle clenched his teeth, ignoring the monster that waited impatiently for him. He breathed deeply through his nose, focusing all his strength on his memories of the Cullens. He pictured Rosalie quietly turning cards over in a game of solitaire. He listened to the soft slapping sound of the cards hitting the table. He thought of Emmett tinkering with the remote control for his gaming system, trying to increase the sensitivity of the device. He remembered Jasper smiling softly as he helped Esme with the flowers around the house, and the sounds of freshly stirred dirt being mixed with compost.

The train slowed to its final stop at the airport and without looking up, Rolle made his way to the check-in counter, presenting his folded, slightly worn ticket and still-damp passport. He made his way to the gate for Sienne, Toscana without looking up, staring at some invisible point in front of him near the floor. A small grin pulled at his lips as he entertained the vision of Alice posing in front of him, asking for his opinion about different shoes. He recalled each pair of the seventeen shoes she had fashioned for him, including the nine changes of socks, nylons and tights. He let it play in real-time in his head, remembering his dismay about what he should say to her about them even though he thoroughly enjoyed the entire event.

Rolle handed over his ticket to the agent at the door and made his way down the jet way with his shoulders shaking in silent laughter, recalling Alice's reaction to his declaration that a particular pair of sandals were 'really very green.' Her ensuing explosion resulted in a name and style that meant nothing to him: Zanotti Studded Peep Toe Platform Sandals. The only thing her rant included that made him gape was the twelve hundred dollar price tag.

As Rolle took his seat, he lifted his toes and looked at his own shoes. He had no idea what they were called or who made them. They were black. Rolle's black shoes, was what he called them silently in his mind. They were comfortable, but doubted naming them could fetch more than the fifteen dollars Esme had spent on them. Thoughts of Esme brought the scent of roses and varnish to his memory. He remembered Carlisle best by smell, too: sage and rubbing alcohol.

Thinking of Carlisle brought on an enormous wave of ennui and pointless motivation. Rolle couldn't fight against the sense of being pulled along by unseen currents sweeping over him and battering him from all sides.

An announcement in French filled the cabin. It was repeated in Italian, then again in English. The captain was reporting a delay due to a mechanical problem with the plane.

Thoughts of Carlisle weighed heavily on Rolle. It felt like he was covered in a heavy tar, sliding over him, covering him, and pressing him down. He couldn't move against the force of it as it flowed over him. He could only move with the will of the heavy blackness as it drained his strength and resolution.

Rolle had no idea how much time had passed, but they were exiting the plane. He was vaguely aware that they were being directed to another gate and a replacement plane.

The tar pulled him along, making him to follow the people around him, knowing he had a role to fulfill even if it simply meant taking directions from others. Rolle knew he'd have to get used to this feeling. This was exactly the way he would have to be for the Volturi in order to keep Edward and Bella safe from Caius.

Bella. She wasn't like Gillian except in her kindness, but Rolle couldn't help himself from connecting the two women simply by what they represented to the men who loved them, and whom they loved. To Rolle, though, she was simply his friend and the center of Edward's world. That was enough for him. As he stood with the small knot of passengers waiting to board another plane, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the only possession he had taken with him from Duncan's Cove: a small loop of purple string. Bella had taught him how to play Cat's Cradle with it. She'd shown him Owl's eyes, cup and saucer and the soldier's bed. Rolle remembered the girls in primary school spending their recess time playing these games. The mischievous young boy he'd been had never been interested in such frivolous pursuits, but spending that time with Bella as Edward watched on had meant the world to him.

It had made him even more obsessed with protecting her.

He followed the other passengers onto the new plane and took his seat again, letting himself think of Edward. He knew this would be the hardest. He couldn't think of Edward without thinking about music. They had spent hours talking about it, playing, sharing favorite pieces, trying to trick each other with improvisations based on composers that the other had to guess at. They had gone through most of Edward's CDs discussing the merits of each, often letting the conversation ramble off into opinions about music in general and the evolution of music across the world.

"Avez-vous besoin de quelque chose, monsieur?" a flight attendant asked with a practiced repetitive tone.

Rolle looked up and realized they were already in flight. He met the attendant's gaze, but she gasped and stepped back. Her eyes were wide and pupils dilated in fear.

"J-Je suis désolé" she stammered, walking backward several steps before hurrying away.

Rolle followed her with his eyes, but did not need to know what she was saying to know that she left out of fear. He could smell the cloying adrenaline swirl around him.

_She knows_, he thought to himself, letting the observation morph into another person who _knew_. Edward had asked him about it once. Perhaps the stewardess only knew he was dangerous, but Edward had learned the truth. Rolle remembered the conversation easily, recalling every detail as the demanding memory absorbed him, putting him back into that moment again as if it was the first time.

~•~

_"They described you," Edward said softly._

_Rolle could feel the damp earth and leaves against the back of his pants. He could feel the sunlight speckled on his face through the shadow of leaves._

_"What did they describe? Blonde weird music guy? Maybe it was Sting or Bowie," he joked lightly._

_"No," Edward said, avoiding his eyes._

_"Why not? Bowie qualifies as weird," Rolle argued with a chuckle, but Edward didn't laugh even just to be polite. "What are you talking about?" Rolle asked more serious to suit Edward's odd mood._

_"Peter and Charlotte," he answered. "They're friends of Jasper."_

_Edward did not continue, and Rolle simply shrugged. "Okay. I can see Jasper having friends."_

_"Rolle!" Edward snapped suddenly._

_Rolle held up his hands in confusion. "What?"_

_"They said you kill, not for food. That you were a murderer," Edward answered. "That you're..." He couldn't bring himself to say it._

_Rolle's humor vanished. He pursed his lips in a frown and completed Edward's sentence for him. "Methodical? Deliberate? Cold?" He huffed through his nose and rose off the ground. He walked to the remains of an enormous fallen tree. He could feel the heavy carpet of moss under his fingertips and the thin layer of dew that clung to it._

_"That you're an assassin," Edward added low._

_Rolle glanced over his shoulder at his friend as he considered this title. He couldn't watch Edward's face as he admitted to it. "That's as good of a description as any, I guess," he whispered with a shrug._

_Edward was quiet a long moment before he asked, "Humans?"_

Rolle swallowed just as he had that day before admitting_, "I've killed both."_

_"Were they all bad?"_

_Edward's question did not confuse him, but the tone of the question did. Edward sounded guilty, himself._

_"I don't know," Rolle answered honestly. He could only be truthful with Edward, because Edward... was his first and only friend since he had died. "It doesn't matter now," he said muttered. "There's no forgiveness here."_

~•~

Rolle snapped out of the memory when the plane landed with a harsh knock, causing several passengers to shout in anger. Irritation flamed through him: having to leave Rachel because he was beckoned like a dog, the delays, the landing. Everything about the past few hours began to boil inside him. He glared at the passengers fussing with bags. He elbowed his way past baggage claim. He snapped at the agent at the car rental.

It wasn't until he was speeding north out of the city that he began to focus again on his destination and Gillian. She had often talked of traveling the world with him. She even had a small map book that had all the places she wanted to see with him and things she wanted to experience with him. She had drawn pictures throughout the book. He thought of her reaction to seeing the Italian cypresses lining long stretches of the road like guardians protecting travelers. She had drawn something like it using charcoal, the pencil-thin trees scattered across the hilltops.

The Alfa Romeo he had rented slid through the easy meandering country roads. As he got closer to Volterra, he noticed the remaining signs of the mining activities that the area was known more than a millennium ago. Oddly eroded divots in the earth pockmarked the slopes and fields and large heaps of tailings dotted the landscape. The edges of both were softened with the erosion of time. He had no such luxury to erode his existence or his memory. His only salvation was to put his resilience to use protecting those he cared about.

Volterra, the symbol of eternal darkness, rose over the horizon in the north like the dawn that would soon rise in the east. The irony wasn't lost on him. The Alfa sped him forward through the old city walls. Nearly every structure in Volterra was built with native rock and so nearly every building had the same yellow hue. Large flat pavers created the narrow roads and sidewalks. The color was only broken here and there by flower boxes and potted plants under the windows.

Rolle headed straight for the old castle without a second thought and went to the southeast gate. As he approached the castle he began breathing deeply through his nose, his shoulder tensing with the first sensations of the complulsions he knew would begin to overwhelm him.

He didn't question if it was the correct building or even if it was the correct entrance, but he knew the gate would be locked. He pulled the Alfa off the street and half into the weeds along the Via di Porta Selci road. Rolle blinked his eyes hard, crushing them closed and shaking his head as he tried to stay focused.

Knowing only that Marcus was already angry about his late arrival, Rolle steeled himself and leapt easily to the top of the forty-foot wall. From his higher vantage, he allowed himself to pause and view his surroundings. The village continued to slumber peacefully, despite the monsters and demons in their midst. The north end of the city was wrapped in a heavy fog that had crept upon it from the valley below.

Rolle turned his attention to the center of the fortress. The square below was empty but for several cars parked within its walls. He lithely dropped to the damp cobbles below. They were worn smooth from heavy use over time, yet moss still grew between the cracks. He stood still a moment as he surveyed the fortress walls and the large bastions on both ends, waiting until he knew where Marcus was. He already knew what he would have to endure for that information.

The force of minds and motivations crushed him: a hundred problems were multiplied by a hundred possible paths. Every thought had unlimited possibilities. Every event, every observation, every influence and every sensation had meaning and potential for every being in and around the castle, and Rolle knew them all.

He staggered and threw out his hand to catch himself from falling over as it felt like a large hand had pushed him. Rolle sank back against the wall, swallowing hard against bitterness in his mouth, taking long deep slow breaths. He clenched his jaw and waited for the worst of it to pass: the jealousy, greed and need for power. His entire body clamped down to prevent him from acting on all the warring possibilities and vague obsessions.

He took his head in his hands, palms tight against his eyes and his fingers clawing into his hair. Will and desire clashed with one another. Some were hungry. Others were sated. Some were restless. Others were content. He fought against the impulse to act on any of it, wanting to both fight and run away.

He threw his head back, cracking it hard against the rock wall behind him repeating Edward and Bella's names in his head until finally he knew exactly where Marcus was. His legs shook under him as he pushed away from the wall. He waited for his body to steady under him before he headed toward a door to his right. His breath stuttered and he gasped, holding it tight in his chest, clenching his fists to keep them from shaking.

Rolle walked down the length of the wall to a door he knew he would find hidden in the stonework. One stone was set smaller than the others and he pressed his palm against the rough surface of it. It slid in an inch and a lock clicked before the door seam appeared for a moment before swinging in.

Closing his eyes a moment before entering, Rolle pictured Edward in his mind's eye. He remembered seeing him the first time in Chicago. There was careful wariness in his eyes that day. They both recognized each other for what they were. It didn't stop Edward from coming over to talk to him between performances, and it didn't take long for Rolle to recognized Edward's feeling of separateness. Together, they were like two mirrors set facing one another; both broken, but for different reasons.

As Rolle pushed open the hidden door and entered the castle, part of his mind registered the dark passage within. Another part of his mind saw something entirely different.

He entered a large light-filled room, the Cullens smiling around him, welcoming him. Rolle let the warmth surround and overtake him. They were each special to him, each unique, and each of them completely integral to the whole. It was Edward he always sought out, though. The man was the embodiment of patience and control, of conviction and potential. Rolle treasured Edward's innocence the most. He wasn't innocent of guilt; neither of them was! But Edward's heart was still naïve of its potential. More than anything else, Rolle understood that.

There was no sound in the dark hall before him, just as there was no sound from the pale carpet under his feet in his mind's eye. Rolle was searching Edward's eyes now, looking for what he knew had to be there, and that was when he saw her. A smile pulled at his lips in the cold damp corridor, but he only felt the warmth of her smile on his face. He knew then, just as Edward knew, that Bella was Edward's match, his partner, the other half of himself.

Rolle blinked in the dark, feeling it all over again as if for the first time: equal parts of exaltation and terror for his one true friend. He swore then and there to dedicate his demonic life to ensuring Edward would never be ripped in half by the loss of his love. He would never feel the bloody shards of a broken heart in his hands. Edward would never have to say goodbye to his lover, his life, or his sanity.

Bella was walking toward him now with a smile on her face, happy to see him. She held out her arms to hug him in greeting, but as he stepped into the circle of her arms, it wasn't Bella any more. Gillian stood before him and embraced him. His watery smile broke the stream of tears on his face.

"I've missed you," Rolle whispered desperately to her.

He knew before he arrived at the chamber that Marcus was with Aro, but that was good. A fragment of Dicken's cemented him on his path as he descended into the fifth circle of Hell.

_And thus I begin my new life, in a new name, with everything new about me. I felt as if I were in a dream. The remembrance of my old life is fraught with so much want of hope. Whether it lasted a year, or more, or less, I do not know. All I know is that it was and cease to be, and there I leave it._

§∞•••∞§

**Halifax, Nova Scotia**

The plane rose steeply from Stanfield International and raced east to meet the dawn. The flight was filled with a variety of international travelers on their way to various locations for a wide assortment of reasons. The four rarest individuals on board were no different, except that they were immortal and headed to a meeting with titans. All four of them were consumed with their own fears, and none of those fears involved the plane crashing.

Esme took Carlisle's hand in her own and laced her fingers through his.

"I'm okay," he reassured her.

Esme smiled indulgently and shook her head. "No, as a matter of fact, you're not."

"Esme..." Carlisle sighed.

"Stop," she said, gentle yet firm. "I don't know who you think you're suddenly married to, but I know you, Carlisle Cullen. I know you better than I know myself." She squared her shoulders and lowered her voice even more. "I know depression as well as you do, and I know how we both chose to handle it in the past," she said, referring to their suicide attempts: hers when she was mortal, and his when he was immortal. "You know the symptoms of depression, and you know better than most how difficult it is for one of... _us_... to shake it."

He knew what she said was true. It was an unfortunate fact of their enduring nature. When it represented strong positive events, such as Edward finding Bella, it was something to take comfort in. When it represented the opposite, however, it could make simply existing unbearable.

"I know," he breathed. "I'm not sure what you want me to say," Carlisle confessed.

"I don't need you to say anything, darling," she assured him, reaching out to stroke his jaw. "I just want you to make me a few promises."

Carlisle was nonplussed. "Promises?"

She nodded. "Promise me that you won't do anything foolish in Volterra that will annoy Caius." Esme looked meaningfully at him, expectant.

Carlisle had paused waiting for her to mention the other things she wanted from him. When he realized that she wanted an answer to this now, he immediately complied. "Of course! I would never do anything to put our family in harms way."

"Or yourself," she made him add.

Despite his emotional turmoil, Carlisle smiled lovingly at his wife. "Or myself," he added softly.

With a nod, Esme added, "No matter how bad you feel, promise that you will always think of the family that loves you unconditionally."

As if he could ever forget. "I promise," he said dutifully.

"Promise me that you will never shut yourself away from me, even if you know deep in your heart that I cannot help you fix whatever is broken." Her voice quavered a moment before she regained her composure with a delicate sniff.

Carlisle's shoulders sank as she said this and he realized how much his behavior had been frightening her. He took her chin in his fingers and raised her face to his, lightly kissing her lips. "Cross my heart," he said earnestly, making the motion with is other hand. He sealed his promise again, kissing her fingers entwined with his.

His sincerity made her smile briefly, but she had saved the hardest promise for last.

"And, Carlisle, I want you to swear that you will not leave me alone in this existence. Don't protect me if you put yourself in harms way. Don't push me away when I stand beside you. You promised we would be together forever... and I can't...." Her voice shook again and she stopped to dig deep for her strength to say what needed to be said. "I can't bear the thought of it without you."

"Esme...!" Carlisle cried softly. His heart broke at her words.

"_You promise me _that we'll be together forever, even in death," she said so low her voice was barely a hiss. She couldn't stand even the thought of it and she dropped her head onto his shoulder.

"Shh," Carlisle soothed, stroking her soft caramel hair. "Shh." He kissed her hair, nuzzling his nose against her until her gentle shuddering stilled. "I have no wish for death, my love," he assured her. "I just feel lost. Like time has swept me up and spun me til I'm disoriented and dropped me to the ground again. I'm only stumbling, Petal, but never doubt that you are, and have always been, the reason I haven't fallen."

Esme raised her head from his shoulder searching his face for reassurance.

"I swear to you, we will always be together," he said earnestly. "In this life or another."

~•~

Edward and Bella sat nearby unable to ignore the conversation between Carlisle and Esme. Edward's expression was particularly pained, hearing not only their words, but also the underlying thoughts that sparked them. Esme's fearful images nearly overwhelmed him as she envisioned a hundred scenarios of Carlisle dying and leaving her alone.

When he looked up, he found Bella tensely chewing on her bottom lip and her brow pulled down with worry. He raised his hand and rescued the tender flesh from her teeth. Bella looked up with a start.

"That's my lip you're trying to remove," he teased sweetly in an attempt to distract her.

When fear filled her eyes, it stole the breath from him. He turned suddenly in his seat, taking a breath to speak. It was only his vampire abilities that recognized her hand blurring into motion, clamping over his mouth to keep him from speaking. He quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen her. When he looked at her again, she shook her head sharply.

Bella's face was filled with anguish and confusion as she grabbed his hand and clutched it, staring at it as if she expected it to do something. Edward tightened his fingers around hers, but that only seemed to make her even more upset. She shook her head sharply and, reaching for her purse, she pulled out pen and paper, scribbling a message to him.

_You can't hear me!_

Edward looked at the note and his eyebrow shot up in surprise, but she was scribbling furiously again.

_Don't say anything! Esme is already frightened._

Placing both hands over her shaking one, Edward stared into her eyes, reassuring her with his implacable love. A long moment passed between them until Bella felt overwhelmed by his steady calm. She found it odd when he deliberately took a very deep breath through his nose and released it slowly, but when he inclined his head toward hers, she understood that he wanted her to mimick him. Bella realized she'd been holding her breath and did as he bid her. Her first attempt was a shudder, but the second was a deep full breath and she immediately felt tension release from her shoulders.

With a tender smile, Edward took the pen from her hand and pulled the paper toward him. His handwriting was more like calligraphy than script.

_You thought I could hear you?_

Bella nodded, and took the pen from him.

_I can't control my shield__!_ She underlined this with a dark heavy line.

Her hand shook again as she wrote. Edward took the pen and thought for a moment before writing.

_Try to shield Carlisle._

Bella created the visual in her mind as she had learned to do shortly after her change. She pressed the walls of her mind out and pictured it enveloping Carlisle. Edward immediately started shaking his head as soon as Carlisle's mind lost its voice.

_I can't hear him now._

She took the pen as she concentrated on reaching Edward's mind. She carefully watched his expression, waiting for the softening of his butterscotch eyes that always accompanied his realization that she was utterly his in both body and mind. Bella watched and waited and felt bitter disappointment when she realized he could not hear her still.

_Why can't you hear me?_

Edward sighed as he considered it. The most obvious answer would not make her feel any better. He gently took the pen from her fingers, but wrote quickly.

_You're under a lot of stress and it may be affecting your control. You'll get to a point when you have constant control of your shields, but in the greater scheme of our lives, you're still very young. Even if you were still mortal, you'd be considered young. Perfecting your control will come in time._

Bella took the pen from him.

_But I needed this, I needed this time with you before we get there. I need that connection to you!_

"Trust me, sweetheart, I need it, too," he said looking deep into her eyes.

_Help me_, she mouthed, still unwilling to add to Esme and Carlisle's own worries by letting them overhear her dilemma.

"Let's prac—" he started to say, but Bella pressed her fingers to his mouth again, shaking her head and inclining it toward Esme. She pressed the pen back into his hand.

_Let's practice some calming exercises to help you focus._

Bella nodded quickly and looked up into Edward's face hoping his guidance could help her. She was confused by the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his lips until he slowly leaned over and pressed those same lips to hers in a tender caress.

His nose nuzzled against hers, his lips sliding over the tender barriers as he kissed her with his eyes open, focused lovingly on her own. Each light touch had a thousand meanings, but the intensity in his eyes could have contained volume after volume of text that defined his love for her. His lips held his adoration. His taste held his devotion. His tongue held his longing. He sighed into her kiss. His left hand came up between them and reached under her chin, dragging the back of his fingers, and his wedding ring, along her jaw. Edward traced the cool metal along her skin, deepening the kiss and letting his fingertips stroke lightly down her throat. His hand slowly drifted down her collar like it was caught on a breeze and came to rest at the top of her breast. The pads of his fingers slid off the side of the mound until his palm cupped her reverently.

Bella soft moan hummed into his mouth. She relaxed into his touch as she pressed her fingers through his hair. In the familiarity of his influence over her body, her mind opened easily to him and he heard her voice in his head, repeating the same phrase over and over like a mantra.

_I love you I love you I love you I love you..._

"There's my Bella," he whispered.

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **My love and respect to **Irishgirl **and **Songster**. I simply cannot call them merely _previewers_, because they do so much more than that. They are story editors, copy editors, critics and analysts, and keep me on track in so many ways that I simply cannot say enough to express my thanks. This story would have floundered without you guys. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for always being on top of her game. She validates my chapters for posting with amazing speed.

MUSIC: Run, by Snow Patrol  
http://www (dot) vevo (dot) com/watch/snow-patrol/run/GBF060400114

Love has led me here, the Death of Eurydice  
The Myth of Orpheus  
http://www (dot) renaissanceastrology (dot) com/orpheushymns (dot) html

AEROPORTO DI SIENA SPA in Sienne, Toscana (aka: Siena, Tuscany) is the closest airport to Volterra

"Avez-vous besoin de quelque chose, monsieur?"  
[Do you need something, sir?]

"Je suis désolé"  
[I'm sorry]

Pictures of Rolle's drive to Volterra  
http://www (dot) panoramio (dot) com/map/#lt=43 (dot) 4014259&ln=10 (dot) 8611111&z=4&k=2

Via di Porta Selci  
Street names found from Google Maps of Volterra

A Summary of the Circles of Hell (Dante)  
http://ezinearticles (dot) com/?Dantes-Inferno---A-Summary-of-the-Circles-of-Hell&id=1709342

Rocca Vecchia  
http://www (dot) castellitoscani (dot) com/volterra (dot) htm  
Volterra is one of the most important historical Tuscan town, first great Etruscan 'metropolis' (or as the ancient said 'lucumonia') then Roman settlement.


	13. Chapter 13 I come not to spy

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to this ridiculously loud woman who can't seem to whisper. We don't know why, but you **_**never**_** have to ask her to repeat herself...!**

Check out my blog for updates:  gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

* * *

**Chapter 13: ****I come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus**

The audience chamber of the ancient castle was a wide, round room with more than a dozen enormous marble pillars reaching from the floor to the ceiling twenty feet up. On the walls between the pillars were intricate mosaics of friezes depicting the expulsion of the vampires by Saint Marcus. On the floor were more mosaics that represented the founding of the city. Twelve-foot windows made up the difference in space, each pane of glass a milky white.

Marcus' eyes were wide as he regarded Rolle standing silently in the door of the audience chamber. The elder was not surprised to see him in the same clothes that had been brought to him in Nova Scotia when they had departed. The vision of Rolle standing there was exactly the way Marcus had always imagined. The only things missing were the red burning eyes and the sneer of fury on the boy's face.

Surprised by the sudden appearance, several guard in the room reacted with low snarls. Among them were Renata, Aro's shield and personal bodyguard. Her sharp red eyes narrowed as she moved closer to Aro.

Two other vampires advanced on Rolle. Both were large and intimidating. Though Rolle was only an inch or two shorter than both of them, each of them were at least thirty pounds heavier and all of it represented sheer brawn. Felix approached from the left. Rolle's eyes flickered to him first, taking in the vampire's unyielding eyes and dark hair. Santiago strode toward him from the right, his eyes equally as hard and uncompromising.

The smallest of the Volturi rose from her seat on the far side of the room. Jane watched Rolle with mild interest. Her pale brown hair was pulled back from her face into a tight knot giving her the illusion of age beyond her mortal years where she had been frozen.

Each of them had a single burning question on their minds: How did this person get in without notice? Aro and Marcus worked together to reclaim control of the room and mask their unease at the sudden appearance.

"Why it's young Rolle!" Aro's smile did not reach his eyes.

"You're late," Marcus said, mustering as much annoyance as he could.

"So you are the one who attacked Carlisle's coven?" Aro's words were matter of fact, but his tone was stiff. "_And_ the one who reportedly killed our own Demetri!" he added with a curious light in his eyes. His voice almost sang as his hands clapped together.

Rolle's face was lowered, but his eyes were raised taking in the room around him, flicking to the faces of each vampire.

"Shall I bring Caius?" Felix asked.

"Yes, well thought, Felix," Aro said graciously. "Thank you."

As Felix slid past Rolle and into the hall beyond, Aro returned his scrutiny to the seemingly plain American youth before him. Aro was immediately pleased with this fact, knowing the boy would be easily underestimated. Aro had learned eons ago to never take anyone at face value, but for those without his years of experience, he knew it could be an advantage.

"Welcome to Volterra, my young friend," Aro said, turning and taking the four steps to his chair on the dais. Renata moved with him as if she were attached. He took his seat and steepled his hands in front of himself, looking expectantly back at Rolle. When Rolle made no attempt to answer, Aro chuckled. "You may speak," he granted with a smile.

"Thank you," Rolle said softly.

"Amazing!" Aro delighted. "Who would have guessed? Court manners from an American? Although," he paused to point out, "it is in very bad form to enter any keep unannounced, let alone unattended. You'll be sure to not make that mistake again?"

Rolle nodded and answered, "Yes, sir," being careful not to mutter.

Aro turned to Marcus. "Truly, my brother, you have a most excellent eye. What was it again that you said intrigued you about the boy?"

Marcus hated when Aro made him repeat something he needed no prompting to remember. He buried his annoyance in his apathetic reply. "He appeared to have some natural tracking ability."

Aro nodded thoughtful. "By an interesting coincidence, we seem to have an opening for someone with such talent," he teased. "But what have you done to make your eyes so... unique, young Rolle?"

Rolle glanced around the room as if the question confused him. "Nothing."

Aro chuckled again as Caius entered with Felix. The elder paused several feet from Rolle and looked him up and down.

"This is him then?" Caius asked. He looked up at Aro as he asked, "Is it true about Demetri? Have you seen it?"

"We were waiting for you, my dear brother," Aro answered and beckoned Caius and Marcus to join him.

A warning in the form of a low growl bounced around the room.

When all three elders turned to find the source, Marcus found the sneer on Rolle's face that he had expected to see earlier. The cause of the sneer, however, was not Rolle's vengeance. The cause turned out to be Felix who was standing directly behind Rolle, purposefully staying out of his field of vision to goad him.

"Now, now, Felix," Aro scolded. "Don't be like that! There's no cause to make a bad impression. You may be working together very soon."

As Felix moved, Rolle quieted and the remaining brothers claimed their seats. With a slight gesture of his hand, Aro indicated a place before them where Rolle should stand. A soft, serene smile appeared on Rolle's face for an instant and then was gone again. Aro noted it, but made no mention of it. He would know the reason for it soon enough. Once the stage was set, Aro let the show begin.

"Marcus has been waiting for you, my young friend. Why were you late?"

"Mechanical difficulties with the plane," Rolle answered promptly.

Aro smirked, pursing his lips. "I meant for the past sixty years."

"I wasn't sure who killed me," he answered after a slight pause. "I wasn't sure until I found the other one following him."

"The other one?" Caius interrupted. "What do you mean?"

"Demetri," Rolle answered. "He... he was removing obstacles."

Aro leaned forward in his seat. "Explain."

"His intentions were to destroy Carlisle Cullen, but when he discovered Marcus in the area, he thought he would take the opportunity to advance himself by breaking the triumvirate. He thought he could remove Marcus and blame the Cullens, then come back here and claim the seat for himself."

Aro watched Rolle carefully as he spoke, but there was no hint of dishonesty from the boy. He had always found it best to give someone enough rope to hang himself first before discovering the truth in his own unique way.

"And your intentions?" Caius asked.

Several eyes flicked to Caius after his question, and it was more than Marcus and Aro who noted the Caius did not challenge this accusation, nor did he press for more proof of the allegation. A new chill filled the marble room, but it did not affect the temperature a single degree.

Rolle looked up, his expression was unreadable. "I have none. I came because I was told to."

"How did you know this about Demetri?" Aro asked since Caius purposefully did not.

Rolle shrugged. "I don't know."

"Then how could you know what his intentions were?" Aro asked again.

"I just do," Rolle answered. "I just... know things sometimes."

"Is that how you tracked the man who killed your mate?" Aro asked.

The air left Rolle's lungs in a whoosh and he reeled as if Aro had smacked him. "What?" he gasped, wobbling where he stood.

Marcus raised a cautioning hand to Aro at the same time Renata stiffened and moved closer. Rolle seemed unable to contain himself. He pulled on his hands, wrapping an arm over his chest, rocking from foot to foot, and fidgeting like a young child. Aro was faced with his own honest confusion over Rolle's strange behavior. He glanced at Renata to ensure she accompanied him, and he climbed down the stairs to face Rolle.

Aro held out his arm appearing to offer support and a steady hand. Rolle reached out and missed his hand on the first attempt, flailing for the thin fingers a second time. The knowing expression on Aro's face slid off like melting wax as he experienced something he hadn't felt in a long time: pain.

Instead of the smooth flow of knowledge that normally blossomed in Aro's mind, images exploded behind his eyes. Sharp fragments of thought raced across his brain and felt as if they shredded the tissue they came into contact with. The jagged splinters of Rolle's past had neither framework nor frame of reference. There were faces laced with painful barbs of memory. There were many patchy experiences with no beginning and no end that seemed to belong to no one at all, and yet somehow made up the litter of Rolle's life.

_Sensations_ overwhelmed what Aro could only refer to as Rolle's 'past': suffocating darkness and weight, blinding brightness that seared the eyes and flesh, painful floating murkiness without sight. The pulse of the earth itself seemed to be the backdrop, connecting everything within Rolle's mind with a deafening roar.

Most faces were unfamiliar as they popped before him like bubbles in boiling water. He recognized a few: Carlisle, Edward, and other vampires that Aro had never met personally but had seen in other's minds. What he found more disturbing were the faces he knew all too well: the Romanians, and vampires whom Aro knew were now merely memories and dust. Demetri was there as well, his face a mask of determined anger before evaporating into thin air.

Aro's free hand flew to his head. Renata reacted immediately, pulling her master free from Rolle's grasp. Without Aro's steadying hand, Rolle partially fell and collapsed to one knee as the other vampires in the room converged on him. Felix and Santiago trapped him to the floor as Jane directed her frightening energies at him.

Rolle threw back his head and gasped, his feet kicked against the mosaic floor smashing the antique tiles as his body spasmed under the pain Jane inflicted on him. When he drew enough air into his lungs, his scream of pain filled the chamber. More dark-cloaked guards rushed into the chamber, coming to the aid of their masters.

"Jane!" Aro gasped. "Enough."

The sneer on Jane's face remained, but she obeyed Aro's order. As soon as her attack ended, Rolle drew another breath but the sound that escaped him wasn't one of pain. The hysterical laughter that erupted from Rolle had a frightening wondrous quality to it. He sounded as if he were awake for the first time in his existence. He raised his head and gazed at her in awe.

"That was you?" he breathed.

Jane's menacing sneer disappeared, startled by his response. She glanced at Aro, waiting for him to announce that Rolle was simply mad.

"Please! Do it again," Rolle begged.

Assuming that he was now simply goading her, Jane released the full force of her fury onto him. The mere possibility that someone would toy with her enraged her. Rolle's responding shriek of pain was satisfying to her anger, and yet between each gasping breath his screams of pain were interspersed with his mad, amazed and astonished laughter as his body writhed in the cruel stone hands of the Volturi guard.

Aro frowned, confused by the insane reaction before him. He stared at the boy on the floor and glanced at Jane, recognizing her singular focus on Rolle and what it meant. "Jane," he said softly to make her stop. She complied immediately. He then waved Felix and Santiago off.

Rolle continued lying on the floor. His laughter rang out uninterrupted from the screams. The sound was delighted and miraculous. As his laughter died away, he sat up slowly. With bright clear eyes and a wide smile he stared at Jane.

"Thank you."

Jane stepped back in shock. _ "What??"_ she spat in rage.

Rolle took a deep cleansing breath and smiled again. "Thank you!" he repeated. "I never thought I'd ever feel anything so pure again."

Jane turned to Aro aghast, barely holding herself back. "Master?" It was a question and a plea.

Aro reached out and smoothed his fingers against her cheek to calm her, as Caius demanded to know what he had seen. Aro gave Caius a meaningful look but said nothing. Instead, he turned to the guard in the chamber.

"Santiago, would you and Sergei escort our new friend to the casement?" he asked them, adding to Rolle, "We will discuss your situation and call for you shortly."

Sergei came forward and replaced Felix, taking Rolle's arm and pulling him up from the floor.

Before they left, Aro called out to stop them. "A moment, please," he said, then turned to Chelsea and nodded once.

A tall and beautiful vampire walked across the room and paused in front of Rolle. Her features were flawless and her dark blonde hair flowed around her exquisite face, but the innate cruelty in her eyes marred her beauty like a scar.

Rolle looked into her mean expression and glanced around the room finding the same look on the faces of every guard present. Their eyes were filled with fire for him. He winced at their intentions. As far as they knew, he had attacked Aro and each one was now considering ways to punish him for that. Having so many minds contemplating possibilities and plans broke Rolle's focus. A low hum filled the castle as if a large truck had parked nearby. He clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose filling his head with their scents.

Chelsea stepped around him and looked to Aro who had returned to the dais. She made her way toward him as she shook her head.

Aro met the expectant faces of Sergei and Santiago and motioned for them to proceed. Together, the two guards escorted Rolle from the audience chamber. Another guard, Corin, followed in their wake. She turned and nodded to the dais with respect before leaving. The heavy doors closed after them with a whoosh and a bang.

Though Rolle offered no resistance and would have followed them without complaint, Santiago and Sergei pulled him down the hall with hard jerks to keep him unsteady on his feet. The cool air of the castle hall stirred with dust as they passed. They manhandled him through several corridors and down a flight of stairs into a subchamber of the southeast tower.

"You'll learn some respect before you see them again," Santiago promised. "We don't allow that sort of thing here."

The door into the casement was pushed open and Sergei flung Rolle into the room. He spun across the floor and crashed into the old wooden sword racks of the armory. Metal and wood clattered to the floor in broken chunks. Rolle scrambled to his feet as Corin closed the door on the men and took a guard position outside.

Sergei dusted his hands across each other. "You don't come here and attack our Lords," he informed crossing the room toward Rolle.

"I didn't!" Rolle tried to explain. He knew their plans weren't to destroy him, but they both understood how much damage they could do that Rolle could heal from before being taken back to Aro.

Santiago's hand flew in a backward arc and caught Rolle across the head. The roaring sound began before Rolle struck the wall again on the opposite side of the casement. Rock cracked under the impact and dust dropped from the rafters.

Rolle got back to his feet again. "Don't hit me," he snarled.

Both men laughed. "Hit you?" Sergei barked with laughter. "We're just having a little talk."

"Yeah, we're just teaching you a few rules," Santiago added. "A little lesson in right and wrong."

"You don't understand," Rolle growled.

"No, _amico_," Santiago corrected. "It's you who don't understand." The men advanced on Rolle from either side. "And we're going to help you with that before you see Aro again."

"So there won't be any more misunderstandings," Sergei said with a brutish grin.

"No. See..." Rolle breathed, teeth clenched. He shook his head as he crouched. "...I'm not locked in here with you," his voice grated. "You're locked in here with _me_."

On the other side of the door, Corin vomited the blood of her last victim as the air pulsed with a single thick beat. Dust swirled into the corridor over the sill of the heavy ancient door. Delicate dancing tendrils curled in the air like smoke for a moment, then were sucked back under the door as if they were never there.

§∞•••∞§

The heavy doors closed after Rolle and the guards with a whoosh and a bang that echoed throughout the room. Those that remained behind did not appear eager to leave, wanting to know more about the stranger.

Caius turned to his brother again. "Well?"

Aro steepled his fingers, pressing his lips to them as he stared into space a moment. "The boy's mind is.... unlike any other I have ever encountered," Aro admitted.

"He's unstable," Caius stated. "He should be destroyed. He doesn't understand his gift let alone know how to control it." He turned on Marcus. "You might have found a useful tool, but you turned him when he was dull and damaged. He'll never be of use to us now."

"Perhaps," Aro murmured, distracted.

"Were you in pain?" Marcus' question to Aro was barely a low breath.

"It was not comfortable," Aro partly admitted, but said no more about his experience. He turned in his seat to face Marcus. "You said he expressed innate skills of a tracker?"

"What of Demetri?" Caius demanded. "Is it as the boy claims? Has he killed Demetri?"

Murmurs of dismay erupted throughout the room in a vampire version of a gasp. The guard seemed to move as one, stepping closer to their masters.

Aro looked darkly at Caius, understanding once again that his brother's unscrupulous timing was deliberate and had many motivations prompting it. He masked his reaction quickly and regarded Caius with smiling eyes.

"It would indeed seem this is the case. How fortunate for us that we are so quickly capable of refilling that unique role, wouldn't you agree brother?" he said with intentional clarity, the turned to address the guard present. "Rest assured that we do not condone such methods for seeking advancement, my friends."

As he spoke, Thomas entered from the left side of the room and crossed quickly to Marcus as Aro continued speaking.

"Be that as it may, we will deeply grieve the loss of one of our own, and though his skills may be replaced by another, we can never replace one such as him. Demetri was a loyal friend," Aro forced himself to say, guessing the truth of Demetri's ambition, "and sought always to protect us all."

Though Aro knew the words professing Demetri's loyalty were all a lie, he also knew not to publicly muddy the name of a man who had friends in the guard. The rumor mill would circulate the truth in a far more palatable way for those who would not want to hear it.

"You can't seriously be considering keeping the boy alive?" Caius asked in dismay.

Aro clenched his jaw a moment before he forced a pleasant smile to his lips. This wasn't a discussion any more. Caius was openly challenging him in front of the Guard, blatantly planting the seed of dissension between them for everyone to see. There was a time, too long ago now, when Caius knew to never publicly challenge him. It was a honor they gave each other, to keep such conversations and decisions private, to always appear unified before the Guard.

Aro turned coolly to Caius. "As I said before, brother, the boy has been left wild too long. He is simply young and untamed."

"And how will you tame him? " Caius wanted to know. He waved a hand at Jane. "How will you control him?"

Caius strode across the dais toward Chelsea. "Did he waver? Did he bend?" he demanded from her, already knowing the answer. He spun back to face Aro.

Thomas bent down to hand Marcus a small slip of paper before stepping back with a nod. Marcus unfolded the note and read it before handing it to Aro. Aro, too, read the note and scowled before handing it to Caius who seemed to begrudge the distance he had to cross to retrieve the note.

_Dacians have left Romania_

Caius crumpled the note in his hand. "Do you know where they've gone?" he wanted to know, his voice still colored with the heat of his questions to Aro.

"No, sir. Afton and Roman are trying to locate them now," Thomas answered.

"This could present a problem," Marcus opined.

"You have a gift for understatement," Caius said brusquely. "What of the boy?" he still wanted to know. "You can't seriously consider him as a replacement for Demetri!"

"We would be short-sighted to not _consider_," he enunciated with a pointed look at Caius, "all options. You act as if we have no time to decide, brother," Aro laughed at the thought, using a lighthearted act to calm the unrest in the Guard over this matter. "Marcus' young friend is a small matter," Aro continued. "We have larger priorities to deal with than this mere boy, don't you agree?"

Aro took the crumpled note from Caius' hand. "What could they be up to?" he mused, turning his thoughts to the broken images he had seen from Rolle.

Their Romanian enemies had been utterly silent for more than fifty years following reports of an enormous disturbance akin to a civil war. Since then there had been absolutely nothing heard from the ancient ones. The entire matter escalated and resolved in a single night, and had happened in a remote part of the southern Carpathians. No vampires from the region had been heard from since, except the Dacians who had crawled back into whatever tomb they had hidden themselves in.

A notion began to form in the back of Aro's mind. He rubbed a thoughtful finger across his lips, recalling memories and stories he had gathered from many minds since that time; stories of a fabled vampire with skills more lethal than any ever found before.

Had Caius been right to guess? Was Rolle this same rumor come to reality? Had the Romanians discovered the boy? Did they send him here now as their weapon? Why had he attacked Carlisle's coven? If he was the so-called assassin, why had his attack on Carlisle been so non-descript? Marcus' memory of that event was that of a rather clumsy youth whose skill seemed more based on luck than deadly ability.

Corin burst into the chamber, the doors flying open with a startling crack. She fell to her knees. "He's destroyed them!"

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **A giant shoutout to **Irishgirl**, **Songster**, and **Philadelphic**. You guys are the rails of this train, keeping me straight and on-track. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for always being on top of her game. She validates my chapters for posting with amazing speed.

I come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus  
The Myth of Orpheus  
http://www(dot)renaissanceastrology(dot)com/orpheushymns(dot)html

"amico"  
[friend] (in Italian)

Rolle's favorite line "I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me."  
From "The Watchmen" http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=JYAcUZ-Av0E

The casement  
http://www(dot)castles(dot)me(dot)uk/rooms-in-a-medieval-castle(dot)htm  
The room in the castle called the Casemate was a later addition to the castle and was a covered chamber for storing musketry or artillery.

The solar  
http://www(dot)castles(dot)me(dot)uk/rooms-in-a-medieval-castle(dot)htm  
The room in the castle called the Solar was intended for sleeping and private quarters and used by the Lord's family. It became a private sitting room favored by the family.


	14. Chapter 14 to try my strength

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to an oddly dressed woman in a canoe. That's just... it's.... hmm....**

Check out my blog for updates:  gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

* * *

**Chapter 14: ****to try my strength against the three-headed dog**

_"He's destroyed them!"_

All three elders leapt from their seats. Several of the Guard stared at Marcus in dismay. Never before had the apathetic man shown this much reaction to anything.

Aro looked pointedly at each of his brothers. "Jane. Chelsea. Felix. Come with us," he said in a clipped voice as the brothers swept down the dais. Renata followed with her hand on Aro, moving like his shadow.

Aro reached out and lightly brushed Corin as they left the audience chamber. Through Corin's memories, he saw how Sergei and Santiago had manhandled Rolle through the castle. She had taken her station outside the chamber's door and had heard her brethren continue to threaten and abuse Rolle. She did not know what had happened behind that door at the moment she became sick.

From Marcus' mind, Aro had seen one of Carlisle's progeny fall unconscious. Such a condition was unheard of in their immortality, as was vomiting. He added this unique bit of information to his mental list concerning Rolle's abilities.

Aro felt the sneer on his face as he realized two more malcontents were working of their own will, dealing out Volturi law without permission, without guidance, and without their methods being condoned. They were old vampires, yes, and of course they had free will—well, moderately free will seeing as how Chelsea saw to their loyalty—but this renegade attitude of exerting power had to be stopped.

Aro understood better than most that the Volturi position in the vampire world was built on the defacto enforcement of their laws for secrecy. Misapplying power when not necessary would undermine all of that, reducing them to nothing more than bullies. The only way to maintain civility was to deliver justice with pragmatic justification.

Some of the Guard seemed to have forgotten that, egged on by Caius no doubt. Aro thought again of Demetri and began to question himself. _Had_ he lost control of them? Had he slipped in his role as their leader by allowing Caius to sway him to change his mind about Carlisle? Had his position of omniscience weakened simply by changing his mind about the potential threat that Caius spoke so openly about? Had it taken so little?

There was no doubt in Aro's mind that Caius truly felt Carlisle's coven was a threat. There was also no doubt that, having failed to deal decisively with Carlisle, Caius would take advantage of the situation to bolster his position.

A bitterness filled Aro's mouth. Had this mutinous behavior been simmering in their ranks? He looked askance at Caius.

They reached the corridor to the casement. The hall was filled with the smell of venom and blood. Caius took the lead like a military general charging in for battle.

"Caius!" Aro said sharply, then started again, calmer. "If you please, brother, Felix will make sure it is safe."

Caius stopped and looked back at Aro even as Felix gave a crisp nod and took point. Jane stepped forward with a mild, watchful expression that belied her keen readiness.

In a blur, Felix was down the hall and in the room. As the door flung open, Aro could see Rolle for a fraction of a second, before Felix had him standing on his feet in a locking hold. The boy had been simply kneeling, head bowed, and palms up where they rested on his legs. His posture was not defensive in any way, and he did not fight or struggle when Felix entered and restrained him. A look of annoyance flashed over Jane's face when Rolle did not resist.

Aro glanced at Renata and Chelsea, who both nodded that they were ready. Together, they approached the room.

"What have you done?" Marcus said, and though it was a question, it did not sound like one.

Rolle shook his head, his face was pinched with regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, though his words were not to the Volturi. He was failing Bella and Edward, just as he'd failed Gillian.

"They hit me," Rolle answered his new masters.

Aro narrowed his eyes. "Who hit you?" he asked.

Rolle shook his head. "They're always hitting me."

Aro noted that Rolle seemed to be talking to himself. More curious than cautious about this odd behavior, he asked again. "Who? Santiago and Sergei?"

Held tight in Felix's grasp, a shudder shook Rolle as he took a deep breath. "I can fight back now. I couldn't before. I don't have to let them hurt me." His answer, however, did not answer the question.

An image he had gotten from the boy appeared in Aro's mind like a crumpled photograph. It was a man, standing above him, with a fist cocked. There was a faint family resemblance. Aro surmised it wasn't Rolle's father; an uncle, perhaps?

Aro glanced at Chelsea. She stared at Rolle with her complete concentration, using her power to sow feelings of trust and loyalty to Aro within Rolle's mind. Renata, too, was tensed and ready. Aro held his hand up to Marcus. Marcus knew without asking that Aro wanted to know if Chelsea's ability was working on Rolle. He took Aro's hand without question, seeing only that the boy did not mean them ill but that there still were no obvious ties to them from Rolle.

"Where are they?" Caius whispered. "There's no smoke."

"The boy obviously has more up his sleeve than merely a tracker's skill," Aro murmured, unable to keep the awe from his voice. He moved to take a step forward and found himself stalled by Renata's unyielding and protective hand. With an impatient glance at her, she relented and moved forward with her master.

"Rolland," Aro began quietly. "I'm afraid we've gone about this all wrong, and for that you have my deepest apologies. I'm sorry that we were not better prepared for your arrival and that your appearance has set so many of our friends on edge. I promise you that no one else will strike you. This is not our way. We live in peace amongst ourselves here, and our role is simply to maintain the secrecy of the existence of our kind."

Rolle nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard, and Aro motioned to Felix to release him. Rolle did not move from where he stood, simply looking dejected as Aro continued to regard him.

The complete disappearance of two guards was equally disturbing as it was exhilarating in its potential. If they did invite Rolle to join the Guard however, this headstrong willfulness would have to be addressed, both in the boy _and_ in the present Guard.

"Marcus, bring him along to the solar, please," Aro said.

Six pair of red Volturi eyes swiveled to find Aro, hoping they simply heard him wrong. The solar was his private quarters in the castle. Apart from Marcus and Caius, very few were allowed there.

"I wish to talk to him." He looked at Caius, adding, "In private."

He turned and walked back up the corridor, heading to his rooms. Felix remained with Marcus, but the others turned to follow Aro.

"What's the meaning of this?" Caius hissed low, catching up to his brother.

"The boy is wild and overwhelmed," he said. "I simply mean to reassure him and to discover exactly what happened."

"I should be there!" Caius insisted. "It's not safe. Three are now missing, and all of the disappearances are related to this boy."

Aro stopped suddenly and met Caius' intense expression. "And what would you do exactly?"

Rage flashed in Caius face at the perceived disdain Aro was implying. Of the three of them, Caius was the only one without powers and it dug in his side like a festering thorn.

Aro allowed his intentional needling to linger a moment before saying the exact opposite to support another option entirely. "If I disappear, then you will have your answer. You will know the boy is too dangerous to keep, and you can do with him what you will."

Caius carefully schooled his reaction.

Aro noted the change in demeanor. They had been together for so long, he could read Caius' intentions easily even without touching him. "As you say, we don't know what to expect from our young friend, and therefore it is too dangerous to risk more than one of us until we have gained Rolland's loyalty and trust; the very tether you, yourself, said we must acquire if he is to be kept. And you must agree, my brother, that of we three, I am the most suitable to begin that process."

"I only care for your safety, Aro," Caius reassured.

Aro's smile was as friendly as a viper posing as a pet. "Of course you do. To put your mind at ease, I will keep Renata and Jane with me while I speak to our guest. Will that suffice?"

Caius grunted, and quickly realized it was not an answer. He added a quick nod, glancing at the two in question.

"Then will you please go and check on our dear Corin?" Aro said, turning to go. "I'm afraid she's had quite a bad turn, and needs our reassurances."

§∞•••∞§

Marcus said nothing as he escorted Rolle to Aro's chambers, nor did he lay a hand on the boy. They walked in complete silence with Rolle once again falling into heel behind his maker. They passed Caius along the way. His face was set into a sneer, but Rolle could see the suspicion and curiosity burning in his eyes.

This was the man. This was the threat to Bella. Rolle dropped his eyes, concentrating with everything he had to put one foot in front of the other, to follow Marcus, to not react.

The fragments of Rolle's mind pictured Caius' face over that of another man's, seen with barely a glimpse through a car window on a stretch of highway in Los Angeles, moments before Gillian died. What if he could have stopped that car? What if he could have stopped that man before he killed Gillian?

What if he could stop Caius before... before...

Rolle couldn't stop the pain from leaving his chest in a strangled noise. Marcus glanced at him at the sound and assumed the source was simply fear.

"Aro will not hurt you," Marcus assured.

Rolle crushed his eyes closed, thinking only left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. So much... there was so much: schemes, games, tactics, vengeance. All of it was buried by a thick syrup of adoration, indebtedness and compulsion. Some were clamoring for ways to impress, wanting to be noticed by their masters. Others simply followed the law and were eager to find those who would threaten the secret, using the lawbreakers as an output for their pent up violence.

Marcus paused at a heavy chestnut door that was ornately designed with cast iron scrollwork that curled across the timbers like vines of ivy. He knocked but did not wait for a reply, opening the door and stepping aside to motion Rolle past.

Rolle hesitated, still battling in his mind. Marcus reached out and put his hand on Rolle's shoulder to guide him and Rolle flinched away, moving quickly through the door.

When the door closed behind him, Rolle wasn't surprised to see that Marcus had not followed. He was surprised, however, how bright the room was lit. The entire suite was bathed in yellows and golds as bright as the sun. Massive windows of stained glass added to the illusion. The floor was an enormous mosaic with small tiles of white, yellow, beige, orange and gold. It depicted the fall of Troy. The ten-year war was laid before him like an ancient storyboard. Menelaus, the king of Sparta, with his flowing beard; Agamemnon, his brother and the king of Mycenae, was there with his wide eyes; the Achaean army marching from the sea; Paris, Helen... even Achilles, Ajax and Hector were there, and the legendary Trojan Horse.

Rolle stared at the horse, feeling an odd kinship to the most famous ruse in the history of mankind. He looked further around the room, half expecting to see Dante's story depicted here.

Instead, he found walls of golden stained woods and pillars of yellow marble. Enormous hand-penned books were stacked waist high along one wall. Several were open on a heavy table nearby. The color illustrations were penned with stains of berries and dyes, now fading with age. There were animal parchment scrolls placed carefully in wooden cubbies that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Tapestries covered the bare stones of the castle walls. Piles of sheet music were scattered across the floor near a gently displayed violin that was cradled in drapes of velvet.

Rolle felt he had stepped into the fabled libraries of Alexandria, decorated in early Sherlock Holmes. No sooner had the description formed in his mind, than he spied several books with Doyle's name etched in gold on the spines.

"There you are," Aro greeted, waving Rolle into a side chamber. When Rolle complied, Aro motioned him to a seat. "Please."

The only other people in the room were Renata, still hovering behind her master like a shadow, and Jane who was seated in the corner feigning interest in a tiny book that she held in her hands. Rolle stopped near the chair Aro indicated, and watched her. She did not look up or acknowledge him in any way, but her awareness was focused solely on him.

"Rolland?" Aro repeated. "Please, take a seat."

Rolle sat, keeping his eyes down.

"I want you to feel free to speak here, my young friend, because I have something I need to discuss with you." Aro sat back and crossed his legs, comfortably.

Rolle nodded quietly, sliding his hand into Gillian's in his mind.

"I want to know why you attacked Carlisle," Aro said suddenly.

Rolle looked up sharply, startled by this completely unexpected beginning. It took him a moment to realize that Aro was admitting he had not been able to pull this information from his mind.

"I'm very disturbed by this report, I will tell you now," Aro said sternly. "Carlisle is a dear friend of mine, and I will not tolerate him being harassed or harmed."

The many paths that unfolded in Aro's mind, to keep Carlisle out of the eye of scrutiny, overwhelmed Rolle. Aro truly valued Carlisle. A series of schemes and strategies rifled through Aro's mind, already trying to predict what Rolle would say and how Aro should react to what he would learn in the next few moments.

For Rolle, the most shocking revelation was Aro instant decision how he would deal with Caius after this. Aro's reactions were completely unexpected and contradictory to everything Rolle had come to assume over the past several years as he became more aware of the rumors and potential threat to his friends. It was this sourceless understanding that had driven him to seek out the Cullens to warn them.

"I..." Rolle stammered, nonplussed.

"You've heard the rumors?" Aro asked rhetorically.

Rolle dropped his gaze. "I know the rumors."

"I tell you now that I do not believe they are true, but even if they were, Carlisle and his coven would be dealt with _by me_ and no other. I've known Carlisle a long time, and I know his heart. So unless_ I_ say otherwise, you are not to accost him in any way, is that understood?"

Aro spoke openly in front of Jane and Renata. Rolle realized that as the Volturi leader's bodyguards they would often hear confidences that others would never be privy to. He also realized he was being given orders as if he was already accepted into the Guard... or perhaps it was just a warning.

"Yes, sir," Rolle answered automatically, still trying to process this unexpected information.

"Me, alone. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Rolle said, his voice quiet and respectful.

"I realize that given the lack of instruction given to you by your maker combined with your nomadic ways, you may not be aware of the Volturi's function in our society. We have one rule above all and that is secrecy. The mortal world cannot know of our existence beyond myth and legend. Now, I realize you've successfully abided by these rules without even knowing their importance, but you are here and it is Marcus' wish that you join the Guard.

"I warn you that I will not tolerate those who ruthlessly pursue their own self-interest at the expense of the whole. Following our laws is in the best interest for all our kind; therefore, if you behave in a manner that exemplifies our goals and truly apply yourself to keeping the secret of our society from the human world, then you will find yourself in my favor. As your benefactor, there will be rewards for exemplary behavior. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Aro nodded curtly. "Good. Now raise your eyes. You are not subservient here."

Rolle raised his head and looked Aro full in the face. He straightened up and squared his shoulders for good measure.

"We are simply being pragmatic," Aro went on. "There is a balance that must be maintained between predator and prey. We provide the ideal governance for our society, allowing everyone to live as they will, as long as they maintain the secrecy. As long as that one rule is kept, we will allow the individuals to pursue their own interests. The benefits of our social order are applied equally to all... including Carlisle," Aro added pointedly.

"I understand," Rolle repeated.

"Very well." Aro sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Then to the more immediate matter at hand. Sergei and Santiago; what did you do to them?"

Rolle took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't know... Made them stop hitting me."

"Then, where are they?"

"Gone. Wherever we go when we die."

Aro scrutinized him openly, trying to determine if the boy was being flippant or if there were truly a language barrier at work. "We don't die. We are destroyed. Are you saying you destroyed them?"

"I... I don't know. I guess," Rolle shrugged, a breath escaped with a choking sound. "They... vanish. I don't know where they go. I don't know what else there is for us."

"What do you mean?" Aro asked with narrowed eyes.

"When a man dies, he goes to heaven or hell, or limbo. I don't know where we go when we die after we're dead. I didn't know there was anything left after this."

"What do you mean, after _this_?" Aro asked. "What do you think this is?"

Rolle floundered for a moment, looking around with a shrug. "I thought this was hell, but..."

"But, what?" Aro pressed, his own curiosity getting the best of him.

"Angels don't... Angels don't visit hell, do they?" Rolle questioned with confused innocence. "Maybe this is purgatory."

"You're Catholic?" Aro observed, not quite succeeding in hiding his surprise. Rolle nodded causing Aro to chuckle. "Well, my young friend, as they say in your world, you picked _a hell of a way_ to pay for your sins." His stilted enunciation of the slang phrase was almost comical coming from him.

Rolle smiled sadly, wryly. "No pun intended?"

"No," Aro laughed in spite of himself, liking Rolle's sense of irony.

Rolle's weak smile disappeared. "I never got Last Rites."

"Oh?" Aro noted that Rolle freely volunteered this information. "And what sins did you stain your soul with?" he asked, playing with Rolle's Catholic guilt like a child would a toy.

"I murdered a man."

Aro noted that Rolle could not keep his gaze as he confessed this. He had seen bits of this when he touched Rolle, but only knew the act of it, not the motivation for it. He pressed on Rolle's psychosis, testing him. "You did far more than that. You hunted him down, defiled yourself to do it, and desecrated his remains."

The memory of his pain-induced rage grinned back at Rolle in his mind. He had let himself become a mindless barbarian, an animal. He had known the moment the man had died, but his death alone could not stem the impotent anger at having Gillian stolen from him.

Rolle's eyes closed, admitting in a whisper, "Yes."

"Just as you killed Sergei and Santiago?" Aro asked.

Rolle winced. "Yes."

"Because they were bad?" Aro prodded. "Because they were evil?"

Rolle's eyes snapped open, filled with hope. "Were they?"

"Are _you_ evil?" Aro asked instead, choosing not to answer. "You killed them. Does that make you evil?"

"Yes," Rolle answered without hesitation.

"Why?"

"I'm a murderer," he repeated again.

"That you may be, but evil men have no conscience, no regret, no values," Aro pointed out, evaluating Rolle's reaction with each word. "They act and react regarding only themselves based on selfish whims, never for a greater purpose. _You_ are not evil. Your faith and remorse are fingerprints of this fact."

Aro watched him carefully as he tested him, gaging Rolle's reaction to this, trying to identify Rolle's motivations and limits. He noted that Rolle was truly listening to his words, almost as if he were absorbing them, processing them, and trying to determine where they fit in the lexicon of his beliefs. Rolle's inexperience in his immortality was evident in his unmistakable quest for self-awareness and knowledge.

"Speaking of faith and remorse," Aro said, continuing his evaluation of the youth, "why did you attack Carlisle and his coven? I happen to know he is _not_ evil. And according to Marcus, they did not 'hit you', as you say."

"I didn't make him go away," Rolle defended.

"No, I suppose not," Aro agreed. "If you had, you would not be here now," he added as a matter of cold fact.

Rolle met Aro's eyes again, cognizant of threat and fully realizing that Aro was not at the heart of the danger toward Edward and Bella.

"Carlisle is _also_ a man of faith and remorse," Aro continued, "and more, he is my friend. Now... _why_ did you attack him?"

This was it, Rolle realized. This would determine if Aro would bring him into the Volturi or simply have him destroyed.

"I knew Demetri thought the Cullens were a threat and that he was hunting them," he explained. "But Demetri wanted to take advantage of the situation and destroy Marcus, too, and blame it on Carlisle. I stopped Demetri before he could get close to Marcus.

"Afterwards, I found Marcus with the Cullens, but I couldn't tell how Carlisle was dangerous." Rolle frowned, shaking his head. "I didn't know what to do, but there were _four_ of them and Marcus was alone. If Demetri was right, if they were dangerous..." Rolle's argument trailed off. "But Marcus stopped me. He said I couldn't hurt Carlisle, so I didn't."

Aro raised his brow. "You killed Demetri... and saved Marcus. Then Marcus saved Carlisle by stopping you?"

Rolle shrugged in answer, knowing that saying anything else would simply make it harder to convince Aro of the lie.

"How did you know what Demetri intended?" Aro asked.

Rolle saw his first glimmer of hope. "I don't know. I just knew."

"You just knew?"

Rolle nodded and tried to explain. "It was like I was him. I knew what he was going to do. I knew where he was and why. I knew what he would do if the storm slacked. I knew he wanted to be respected and feared."

Aro glanced at Jane and Renata, acknowledging them in the room for the first time. His returned his calculating gaze to Rolle, raising one hand to drag his fingers over his lips as he recalled Marcus' appraisal of the boy's tracking skills, even while mortal. If those innate skills had blossomed during the change, as it appeared they had, then Rolle would be an invaluable addition to the Guard, particularly in light of the loss of Demetri.

Aro realized with deep irony that if what Rolle said was true, he had "lost" Demetri long before his physical death. Perhaps this new acolyte could be the key to regaining control of the Guard and squashing these petty ambitions. More importantly, if Rolle's tracking skills were truly this unique, he was more than simply a tracker. He could intuit the motivations and decisions of others. Tracking was the _least_ effective use of his skills. With more awareness, the boy would be a master strategist. Aro clenched his jaw to keep from smiling as Caius' usefulness was greatly diminished. He wondered what the extent of Rolle's sixth-sense could be and if it could be used preemptively. Was there a possibility that the boy could intuit Cauis' motivations?

There was one major point to address, however.

Rolle's mind was like an unassembled puzzle of broken glass. Each memory was sharp, scattered across the landscape of his mind, but each splinter reflected images in stark clarity. Though Aro could not determine the _context_ of Rolle's mind, he had clearly seen the images of each piece. Several of those pieces caused him great concern.

"How do you know the Romanians?" he asked.

Rolle snarled and shot out of his chair, sending it crashing behind him. Jane and Renata were before Aro in an instant as an immortal barrier.

"Why?" Rolle demanded. "Don't tell me they're under your protection, too! They can't be!"

Aro's shock melted into amazed laughter. He gazed at Rolle in open-mouthed delight. "Oh, my boy," he almost cooed. "No, they most certainly are not."

Rolle dropped his offensive posture, taking a half step back. His actions did not affect those of the two women, however. Aro touched the shoulder of both and only then did they relax, but just slightly, alert and ready for any other outburst.

"You _do_ know them, then?" Aro asked quietly, his hand held palm up as if offering more than friendship.

Rolle looked quickly between all three vampires facing him. His nod was sharp but barely discernable as motion. His eyes were hard and his face was tight with pain and mistrust as he thought of the antediluvians that had welcomed him into hell.

"They... they made me..." Rolle trailed off, breathing hard through his nose, clenching his jaw. "They tried to..."

As he tried to sum up his experience with the Romanians, Rolle's breathing grew harsher and he shuddered with rage. He gave up trying to find the words and gritted out, "I don't like them," through his teeth, venom spitting from his lips.

Nostrils flared, eyes glaring with anger; Rolle looked every bit the demon he thought himself to be.

Aro's smile was self-satisfied and smug. "Jane, be a dear and bring some black robes for our new friend."

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **Love and thanks to mah peeps: **Irishgirl**, **Songster**, **Milalencar** and **Philadelphic**. Giant hugs to the newest member of my review team, **Emmanuelle Nathan**, who gave me new insight into sneaky vampire motivations. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for always being on top of her game. She validates my chapters for posting with amazing speed.

Also wanted to give Coconut M&M's and sloppy kisses to **MsKathy** for the tech tips in how to add rotating pictures to my blog! All my hours of research and squirreling away pictures will get to be enjoyed by everyone now! Squee!!

to try my strength against the three-headed dog  
_The Myth of Orpheus  
_http://www(dot)renaissanceastrology(dot)com/orpheushymns(dot)html

Reviews are like comforting hands to a once-abused kid like Rolle....


	15. Chapter 15 these abodes full of terror

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to an overpaid computer nerd who now has A PHOTO SLIDESHOW on her blog that practically illustrate this story! Real life is beating her up lately, so send love...**

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**Chapter 15: these abodes full of terror**

The Cullens walked across the town square as dusk fell. The paving stones—already damp with dew—reflected the street lamps creating a mirror of the stars under their feet. Sidewalk cafes bustled with business as the dinner crowds settled in, and couples shopped from the cart vendors. The square was filled with the scent of tomato sauces, breads and blood, depending on the particular tastes of those who wished to dine for the evening.

Bella clutched Edward's hand as her memories of this place crowded her mind. Though she had been human then, sleep-deprived and distraught, her memories of this place, that time, those events, were crystal clear. She had never experienced fear that intense ever before. Even the memory of it made her feel sick. Edward gathered her to his side and pressed his lips to her brow. Bella turned her face into his shoulder letting everything tangible about him—his smell, his firm arm around her, his lips on her skin—keep the memories at bay. As much as she had lived in dread those seventy-two hours, there was no denying it had been the turning point in their relationship.

She smiled weakly back at him. "I would have been okay never coming back here."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She shook her head and squeezed her arm around his waist to let him know she was all right, that it was in the past. Though she and Edward had already talked about those fateful months years ago in the privacy within her shield, she still found her eyes drawn to the fountain that she had run through, felt her eyes raise to the clock tower beyond... and the alley where Edward had waited for noon to strike.

Being back made those memories real all over again. She had only been a girl then and though her body was now fixed in time, she had the experiences of a woman and a wife. Because of this dark place and those awful events so long ago, she and Edward had taken the first real steps into their future... together. It was because of the Volturi and their laws that Bella took control of her fate and demanded a vote of Edward's family. It was because of his fear from the results of that vote that Edward wrested her fate out of the hands of destiny. It was because of Bella's stubborn nature that he bartered with her over the inevitable, and it was because of his love for her that he proposed for the first time.

The last ten years as Edward's wife had been more than she ever dreamed possible. Each moment they spent together only wove them tighter into a single entity, a single body. Not only did she have a loving family for all eternity, but the love of a man who adored and worshiped her; a man she would do anything for. She could not imagine a life without him. Edward was the reason she could be brave and take risks trying new things. Nothing was real for her until Edward knew about it. If they spent an hour apart, they spent two hours talking about it. Nothing held her attention if he was not there. He was the first thing she looked for when she entered a room. She could separate the sound of his voice from any din. Without him, she was incomplete in ways so profound only the void of space could compare. Edward was her reason, her resolve, and her motivation.

She understood Rolle.

Overcome as she was with these memories, it took her a moment to realize they had stopped. As she looked around, both Edward and Carlisle were staring at Esme. She, too, was staring at the clock tower. The understanding of where they were registered slowly on her face as she looked around the piazza with shock.

"This is the place?" It wasn't a question. It wasn't an accusation. It was pure emotion. It was reaction and response, wrapped in every fear she had that day when Rose called Edward, topped with every fear she had now for Carlisle. This was the place where she almost lost her son, brother, friend, and everything else Edward represented to her.

Esme couldn't hide the pain and fear in her eyes as she looked at Edward, recalling with perfect clarity those horrible months climaxing in the most frightening twenty-two hours she had ever experienced. The tightness around Edward's eyes told her that he was listening to her mind as she remembered. She looked at Bella tucked close to Edward's side, realizing she was Bella's mirror herself, tucked close as she was into Carlisle.

Esme took a deep breath, straightened, and took a step away from Carlisle's arms, turning to face all three of them. Her mettle had been tempered and tested decades ago by her first husband, a man who no longer existed. Charles Evenson may have left no mark upon the earth, but the lessons learned under his cruel hands had made a mark upon Esme, both physically and mentally. It had taken all her courage to leave him, and that strength was with her still as she looked at each member of her family. Volterra was only a place, and the Volturi were only bullies like Charles. She would not cower in fear like that again. Just as she had escaped with her son so long ago, she would escape with her family again.

"We have family, scared and waiting for us back home," she said. "Do you understand? We _are_ all leaving here together." The thought of Alice, Rose, Jasper and Emmett wondering, worrying even now about their safety, was another bitter memory as she recalled waiting for news about Edward knowing he could have perished in this very place.

Bella felt a swell of love for Esme for saying exactly the words she needed to hear. She fell against Esme and held her tight. "Yes, we are," she agreed.

Wrapped together as they were, they felt Edward's arms encircle them both with a soft "Yes" and Carlisle's "Of course" pressed with a kiss to the top of their heads.

Edward saw a reflection of their family moment and curious glances from passersby, through the eyes of another before he heard the mental rolling of eyes followed by an audible and tiresome sigh.

"If you're trying to blend in, I'll have you know that tourists don't normally participate in group hugs," a voice said, dripping disdain.

The Cullens released one another to face the speaker. Red eyes were tilted over high cheekbones framing a sharp face. The effect gave the speaker a distinctly fox-like appearance. His sandy hair was so fine that the slightest breeze shifted it on his head.

"Who are you?" the stranger asked.

Carlisle stepped forward. "My name is Carlisle-"

"Cullen," the stranger finished and nodded as he scrutinized Carlisle. "You are known here."

"Yes," Carlisle replied, pursing his lips. He clasped his hands at his waist. "This is my family," he introduced. "My wife, Esme. My son, Edward and his wife, Bella. I'm here to speak with Aro."

"Edward and Bella," the stranger repeated with an unnerving smile. "I've heard those names before as well." The stranger regarded each of them with such intensity that it made their welcome feel undesirable. It was surprising when he amicably introduced himself. "I am Afton. If your family time is over, then follow me," he said dryly.

~•~

It was a long walk through Volterra to the castle located on the edge of the city. They had followed Afton in silence, barely able to take in the surroundings until their guide pointed out a large three-story building with imperial windows.

"Your fingerprints still linger in the city," he said to Carlisle.

"I'm sorry?" Carlisle asked nonplussed.

Afton laughed mirthlessly and pointed to a discreet bronze plaque next to the main door of the structure. It read simply in capital letters: ETRUSCAN GUARNACCI MUSEUM. Below was printed, _Stab. 1761_.

Shaking his head as if finding the notion foolish, he said, "Mario Guarnacci," as if the name explained everything.

"Mario?" Carlisle repeated, surprised.

Edward snorted softly through his nose and smiled, hearing Carlisle's memories of the then-rebellious youth.

"Who was he?" Esme asked.

"He was a boy I knew when I lived here," Carlisle answered, recalling the quiet youth he'd befriended. "The eldest son of a wealthy family."

As Carlisle rifled through his memories, Edward listened quietly seeing glimpses of key events of Carlisle's relationship and recollection of that time. Mario had been a serene, intelligent boy. As the oldest son, the youth was treated as a prince, privately educated and kept ignorant of the daily sufferings of the town's people. He stumbled, quite literally, into Carlisle when he slipped out of his family home one night. Mario was fascinated by Carlisle whose kindness and compassion were unlike anything he had experienced. Carlisle saw remarkable strength and potential in everything, and spoke of the untapped power in mankind to accomplish things greater than any one individual. Until he had met Carlisle, Mario had only been taught to view the world as business opportunities to be exploited for profit. Carlisle had taught him that compassion was not weakness. One night, Carlisle had told the young man that he had the potential to become a great man who men would fear, or to become a great man who men would follow. No one had ever spoken so plainly to Mario, treating him as an equal.

"He became an abbot and turned over his family's antiquities and archeological collection in order to create this museum," Afton supplied. "For the citizens of the city," he added.

Carlisle gaped at this. "The-the books?" he asked.

"Fifty thousand of them."

Carlisle ran his hand over his forehead. "Why do you think I had something to do with it?" he had to know.

"A private letter from the abbot to Aro," Afton said without turning or slowing his step. "As a sign of respect and thanks, for the benefits of the sorcerer."

"Benefits of the sorcerer?" Bella repeated. "What does that mean? Did he think you were a wizard?"

"When I knew him, people still remembered the Inquisition in Venice. Fear and superstition was rampant," Carlisle explained, adding, "and not always without warrant. People believed a lot of things in those days, in the absence of science to prove otherwise." He shook his head in wonder, still stunned at the news of Mario's generosity to the city. "Even so, believing I was a wizard was far more palatable than the truth."

Afton laughed at this, his first sign of true humor. "Interesting choice of words."

He took them to the closest tower, directly into the center of the seat of Volturi power: Rocca Nuova. Though they had only moved from the stone walls and cobblestone sidewalks of the city to the stone walls and cobbles of the castle, it felt as if the warmth and life of Volterra stopped and waited just outside the threshold. The air was still. The yellows and golds of the city were dark with age here. The stone here felt as stagnant as a tomb's, not vibrant with industry as it was only steps behind them.

Thinking of the stone-like creatures within, Bella suppressed a shudder at the comparison. Her life with Edward was bright and alive compared to the Volturi, who fed on death and power. To add to the illusion, they passed several vampires wearing robes of gray or black. None of the Volturi spoke to them. They only watched the visitors with curiosity glowing in their red eyes.

Afton did not address his fellows, but walked with steady purpose, bringing the Cullens to the large ornate doors of the audience chamber. He stood aside to let the Cullens enter. The audience chamber revealed itself, and its occupants, as they moved into the hall. Three tall chairs sat upon a raised marble platform, the seat of the Volturi triumvirate. Caius, featured prominently on the dais, sat in one such chair giving the impression of one upon a throne. Marcus' and Aro's chair stood empty.

Edward recognized a few of vampires in the room from his first audience with the Volturi. Alec and Felix rose from a stone bench along the wall. The Cullens arrival appeared to have interrupted their conversation. Bella would remember them as well, but the others had only been present when Edward made his formal request to be destroyed. Chelsea, Thomas and Corin were clustered together. Edward studied them and picked up clear images of Rolle from their minds, as well as an overwhelming unease. Chelsea's mind was strangely occupied with some small tune that she was humming to herself. Intent on following protocol, Afton strode across the room and bowed before his masters.

Several of the Guard who had witnessed the Cullens' passage through the castle crept behind in their wake. The Cullen name was no longer a mere ghost within the halls. They had manifested themselves—four of them—just as Caius forecasted. Edward did not recognize these members of the Guard , but easily pulled their names from the minds in the room. The Guard lined the walls more out of curiosity than duty; eager to learn more of the very vampires they had heard so much about. They watched expectantly as Caius rose slowly from his chair as Carlisle and the others entered.

"Well, well, well," he voice drawled knowingly. "Speak the devil's name and the devil shall appear."

Marcus came forward from lingering in the shadows, mildly surprised to see the very people he had just rescued standing in the middle of the room. His milky red eyes were flat and questioning as he appraised them. Edward listened intently as Marcus studied the feelings that bond the Cullens together shimmering in blue-white that coiled around and encapsulated them. These were not mere filaments of thread connecting one to the other—weaker in color and artificially maintained by Chelsea—that he saw between the Guard. They were knotted skeins crocheted together in a tight weave, from each one of the Cullens to all the rest in their family. Only the signs of the mated pairs—mercurial gold and white spheres—overpowered any of the others.

"Carlisle," he greeted, hollowly.

"Marcus," Carlisle said with a bow of his head. "Caius, it's good to see you again."

Caius crossed his arms over his chest and scowled as he eyed Edward and Bella.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Marcus said in a tone that did, in fact, sound surprised. "Was our business at your home not concluded to your satisfaction?"

"Where is the rest of your coven?" Caius asked, cutting across Marcus. "Here in Italy?"

Edward heard Caius formulate his plan of attack instantly, hoping to use this situation to garner more support from the Guard.

Carlisle arranged a carefully neutral expression on his face, remembering that Caius was at the root of all this. "They stayed behind in Canada."

"Caius-" Marcus tried to break in.

"I must say," Caius continued, ignoring Marcus entirely, "we were very pleased to hear that you did not push our stipulations concerning Edward's mate. By all accounts, Bella has become an exceptional vampire."

Marcus drifted back to his place behind their chairs, unwilling to challenge Caius' single-mindedness. Caius did not even consider Marcus, knowing his associate had lost his will for life long ago.

Edward tensed, knowing that Caius was intentionally goading him. He fought the protective urge to pick Bella up and run her out of Italy. Caius' cold appraisal of her was already threatening his composure.

"Yes," Carlisle said, glancing at Bella as he spoke, "she is a much-loved addition to our family."

Edward focused on the elder's thoughts as Caius sneered at the word 'family' and made a mental count of the Guard in the room, calculating the odds, before coming close. Three to one was apparently good enough to put him at ease. He stepped down from the platform, crossing directly over to Bella. Getting closer than necessary to provoke Edward, he inspected her, leaning from side to side to see her from different angles.

"I must give you credit, Carlisle, for your choices," Caius said snidely. "You _choose_ to be a doctor. You _choose_ to only give our gift to those dying. You _choose_ when to break your own standards when you conveniently find a human who will clearly be outstanding in our world. I wonder how many dying humans you have _really_ changed?"

Carlilse spun to face him, horrified that anyone could even think like that. He and Caius had never had any sort of friendship beyond polite acquaintances, but they had at least had respectful regard toward one another. He had never realized the true depth of Caius' ruthlessness.

"You know I would never do anything like that," Carlisle said trying to keep the sharpness from his tone.

"Do I? Hmm." Caius continued to needle him in a blatant attempt to prove to the Guard once and for all the real dangers the Cullens represented. "Did you choose to become a teacher to evaluate the young humans to swell your ranks then? Find more of those who would be gifted? Indoctrinate their minds early into your way of thinking?"

Carlisle gaped at him now understanding the depth of the paranoia within Caius that Rolle had warned them about. He saw now how easily Caius' rumormongering could have pushed Aro into action and created these suspicions within the Volturi guards that would encourage them to act on their own. Had Caius always harbored these ill-feelings toward him? Had Carlisle's lifestyle sewed this mistrust? Was it a reflection of jealousy that Carlisle had enjoyed a deeper friendship with Aro? Was it merely cold and calculating strategy on the elder's part to influence the Guard?

Caius moved onto his next target while Carlisle spluttered and stood behind Bella. He was so close she felt the material of her blouse shift before she realized he was leaning over her shoulder as if to speak into her ear. She shivered at his breath near her ear, struggling not to move away.

"Tell me," he directed to Edward in a deceptively soft voice, "is it true that you still cannot read her mind, despite her change? Even after being well and truly mated to one another? You _were_ the one to change her, were you not?"

Bella felt Edward's building reaction. Her mouth filled with the bitter taste of panic and static raced over her skin as her shield instinctively expanded to encompass Edward's mind. _Edward, don't!_ her mind said and she clamped down on his hand as she found the strength to smile and look at Caius over her shoulder. Her movement precipitated his withdrawal as he was forced to give her space or let her lips touch his skin. Empowered by his small retreat, Bella laughed lightly sounding carefree and easy.

"It's for the best, isn't it?" she asked, casually amused. Even as she spoke, she soothed her husband's anxiety with her mind, assuring him that she was all right and urging him to stay calm as her thumb caressed the back of his hand. "Can you imagine any marriage where the husband could read his wife's mind twenty-four seven? We never sleep, so when would he get any silence? Besides, my mind is always going a million miles an hour and half the time, I'm not even paying attention to it myself!"

Several of the male guard in the room chuckled softly, reducing the enmity that Caius had been manipulating. His oily smirk belied his irritation at Bella's disarming influence on the Guard.

"I'm sure," he muttered as he walked back to the dais before addressing Carlisle again. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you," he said sardonically, sitting in his chair and leaning back comfortably. "Why are you here?"

Carlisle knew now not to say anything to Caius. Any truth offered to him would only be twisted and manipulated for the elder's own gain. Instead, he slid one hand into Esme's, raising the other to his waist with the palm up before letting it fall again "When I left, Aro assured me that I would always be welcome in Volterra."

"I'm sure he meant you would be welcome if you intentions were friendly," Caius challenged.

"But we've done nothing to make you think our intentions are otherwise," Carlisle pointed out.

"Oh?" Caius questioned, casually glancing at his fingernails as if the conversation held no merit. "Is it out of friendship then that you expand your coven? Is it friendship that compels you to collect the powerful allies that you euphemize as family?"

There was a murmur of accord from the Guard, several of whom had shifted forward from the wall. Despite Bella's efforts, the tension in the room returned as Caius had reminded everyone of the inherent threat the Cullen's coven represented. Years of Ciaus' whisper campaign would not be easily diffused.

"I don't understand your meaning," Carlisle replied. "My family has not changed with the exceptions of Bella."

Caius stared hard at him without a word.

Carlisle smiled and shook his head in surprise. "I didn't realize that to find a mate was such a threat to your comfort and laws."

"_Our_ laws," Caius corrected sharply.

"There is nothing in _our_ laws that prohibits us from seeking out a mate," Carlisle pointed out, and quickly added, "Nor is there any precedent against the establishment of covens. It's been quite the opposite."

"Convenient then that these mates hold such unique gifts," Caius replied in an accusing tone.

Carlisle shrugged again hoping that pointing out the obvious would have some effect. "Esme holds no such power, but she is my mate. Neither my daughter, Rosalie, nor her mate have any unique power. I assume then that you only refer to Bella."

Caius glared, but did not want to appear to be singling her out.

Edward ground his teeth together. It did not make him feel better to listen as Caius reevaluated his approach, knowing it would weaken his position if he appeared wary of a single vampire, especially a woman who was little more than a newborn. As much as Edward hated being here, hated Bella being subjected to this, he tried to take comfort in the fact that they were dealing with this situation preemptively. He did not want to think about what might have come to pass if Rolle had not warned them this situation was brewing. It was already so much worse than they dared believe! He let his eyes close briefly, shutting out the sight of this horrible place, and let Bella's gentle voice in his mind calm him as Carlisle continued to defend them.

"Edward was my first son," Carlisle added in a conversational tone, "and he was the last of us to find his mate."

"And such a convenient choice she was," Caius said waspishly.

"Do you believe there is a choice in who we bond to?" Carlisle tone was casually curious as if he were merely searching for an opinion on the matter. "Surely, you can't imagine it was _convenient_ for him to fall in love with his singer—a human—to hunger for her blood as he had hungered for no other?"

"What, then, of Alice and her mate?" Caius attacked from a new angle.

Carlisle sighed patiently through his nose. "I don't understand. I've done nothing but what is in our natures—or that you, yourselves, have encouraged me to do," he stressed. "When I left your company, Aro, himself, urged me to seek out others who would freely choose my lifestyle."

"Perhaps Aro did not fully understand the implications of his leniency," Caius snapped.

The words were no sooner past his lips, than a gasp of shock whispered through the room. For a split second, Caius' pride got the better of him and he took delight that his boldness had won this reaction. As every pair of eyes darted sharply to a side door and went wide with surprise, Caius' jerked his chin over his shoulder to see what everyone was looking at. He had been so wrapped up in the Cullens he hadn't heard anything.

Aro had entered the chamber.

It was as if the air had been sucked from the hall when Aro entered. Every undead being in the room shamed the statues of marble that looked down on them from their pedestals with their sudden stillness. The quiet that enveloped the room hushed the low roar of the earth as it boiled deep in the belly of the bedrock.

Time itself paused to watch the tension, forgetting its duties of moving life forward for never in all their history had one of the Volturi brothers publicly questioned another.

Aro's face was smooth and calm, but his eyes burned into Caius who had not moved since his brother entered. Marcus alone was close enough to see the slight bob of Caius' throat when he swallowed. The Guard along the wall discreetly lowered their eyes in the hopes to claim ignorance by lack of directly watching.

Though the Aro's face was as smooth and young as it had been the day he was changed over a millennia ago, Edward alone knew the elder's thoughts in that moment and they were not smooth nor calm nor contemplative. In that moment, Edward realized how deeply divided the brothers had become. Aro, however, did not think about the specifics of his annoyance with Caius. Edward could only hear his anger with Caius for his behavior and got the sense that this was simply one more event in a long and growing list.

After what felt like a vampire's lifetime, Aro glanced around the room, noting which guards were present to witness this breach of conduct. Edward gleaned the names of the other Volturi in the room whom he did not know. Aro considered the first: Donato. He had the ability to create physical urges in humans and vampires. Torgor had come from Norway and could erase the memories of humans. Aro was particularly upset to see him here, as well as the next Guard, Mirek. His gift was the ability to put images into the minds of others. Nabhiha, _my Persian beauty_, Edward heard Aro think as he felt a pang of loss. Nabhiha could create visual illusions in others. As Aro's mind began to calculate how to deal with the loss of these people, Edward realized Aro was already writing them off, wondering if there was any way to save Chelsea from the situation. With a shock, Edward wondered exactly how deep the division ran, though he had no way of knowing exactly why Aro seemed to write these particular guards off as collateral damage. Apart from his brothers and the Cullens, ten other guards had bore witness to Caius' aspersions.

Bella felt a cold chill in the air much like she had the first time she stood in this room, only she wasn't soaking wet this time and she wasn't mortal. As she glanced at the guards, she wasn't the only one who felt it and that gave her a small sense of peace. Whatever had just happened, it affected everyone. She dared not turn her head to look, but through her peripheral vision she could see that even Carlisle felt the electrified tension in the room.

Aro drew his eyes back to Carlisle and a small smile marred his overly-controlled expression. He took another step into the room and glanced at the person nearest the door. Aro reached out a hand and touched the arm of the guard as he walked toward the Cullens. The gesture could have been meant to be friendly and reassuring in the tense situation, but Edward listened as Aro catalogued the entire welcome that Caius had given them from the guard's memory.

As Aro passed over the door's threshold, Renata and Jane came in behind him. It was Esme's mental voice of heartache that interrupted Edward's attention when she spotted Rolle following in their wake dressed in black robes. He was flanked by two more Guard.

Edward tried to get a sense of his frame of mind, when Jane's malevolent glare fell on Bella. With twenty voices in Edward's head from everyone in the room—all of them agitated by the dissension they had witnessed—only one mattered to him and it had fallen silent to him again. Bella's control of her shield had faltered. He squeezed her hand when it tightened on his own. He fought his own growl of frustration, battling every cell in his body that wanted to get her out of this place. His chest ached when Bella moved closer to comfort him, ignoring her own fear and sadness when she spotted Rolle.

"Carlisle! You've accepted my invitation to visit at long last. Our own prodigal son!" The tension abated with the tone of Aro's greeting.

At the mention of Carlisle's name, Rolle's head snapped up. Edward heard the cry of despair in his mind when he saw them.

"Thank you, Aro," Carlisle answered. "You've always been a very gracious host. I'd like you to meet my wife, Esme," he introduced.

"Wife?" Aro repeated, surprised by the human title. He glanced and Esme and back at his old companion. "I am glad for you," he said in earnest. "There is no greater comfort through the years as one's own mate.

"But I must say, Carlisle..." Aro regarded him with a shake of his head. "Look at you! You've succeeded in finding your own path as I always hoped you would. I admit I had my doubts when you left here just as dissatisfied and directionless as when you arrived. I worried about your tolerance for immortality. You were always so singularly melancholy and deliberate, yet brimming with keen observation and incredible circumspection. I feared we would never see you again, and yet, here you are surrounded by your own coven."

"My family," Carlisle corrected, and Aro's smile grew wider still.

"Family, of course. Forgive me." Aro's gaze now moved to Esme and he swept a shallow bow to her. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance."

Esme nodded, too intimidated by the powerful creatures around them to speak. She forced herself to watch Aro; anything to keep herself from staring at Rolle whose face was stoney and cold, but his eyes burned bright within the hood of his robes. It sent a chill through her, reminding her of his madness when he attacked them. _Was it barely a week ago?_

"And the new Mrs. Edward Cullen!" Aro went on, practically jubilant upon seeing her. "Bella, my dear, you are simply stunning. Your beauty alone surpasses all my wildest imaginings!"

Edward failed miserably in the attempt to hide his feelings about Aro _imagining_ his wife in any capacity.

"Tell me, is your shield just as remarkable as we suspected it would be?" he asked her. "May I?" he asked, extending his hand to her.

Bella gaze skirted around to the guards at Aro's back, but she bravely took the step forward and slid her hand into Aro's, her other hand still firmly locked in Edward's who was unwilling to let it go. As he clasped both of his hands around hers, she noted the difference of the smooth texture. Though the skin still looked papery, the marble-like quality was different from her own skin or even Edward's—like a high-grade polish. The texture appeared to be a patina acquired through his incredibly long life.

Aro stared at Bella, simultaneously delighted and unnerved by his inability to hear her mind. His milky red eyes lowered to stare at her hand in his as he caressed her fingers. His fascination was deep and very obvious.

Edward struggled to not rip Bella from Aro's grasp when he heard the elder muse about having Bella at his side, cloaked in black. Aro coveted her and it did not matter that he wanted Edward just as badly, if not more so. Even the idea of Aro wanting to steal her away tilted Edward's world, and he found himself momentarily hating Rolle for putting them in this situation. The longer Aro held Bella's hand, the more tenuous was Edward's grasp on reason.

A hiss filled the room and the jealous protective haze lifted from Edward's mind. The sound had not come from Jane, though her murderous thoughts were also flaming with jealousy. The hiss had come from Renata.

Aro did not scold her for her action. He only smiled at her indulgently then turned to question Edward. "As your mate, are you now privy to her thoughts?"

Knowing they couldn't be caught in a lie, Bella answered, "He can only read my thoughts if I bring him into my shield, but it's very difficult for me to keep it pushed out around him for any length of time" She cast a quick scowl at Caius after she answered, wanting Caius to remember that they did not answer his taunting way of bringing up the particulars of her shield.

Aro's smile grew. "Interesting," he murmured, though Edward heard him take note of the way she described _pushing_ the shield out. "In time, my dear, in time!" he encouraged. "All of our unique traits have matured over time, as does our control of them. But speaking of control..."

Edward tensed violently. Despite his concentration on the thoughts of every vampire in the room, the content of Aro's thoughts suddenly flamed in Edward's mind well before the words left Aro's lips.

"You wouldn't perhaps be inclined to indulge me in a small experiment?" Aro asked, motioning Jane forward.

Bella could not control the shudder that raced through her.

~•~

Rolle stared at them from under his black hood, the sleeves of his robes quivering from the tremors in his hands. His foot began to bounce impatiently the longer Aro spoke and the closer he moved toward Bella and Edward.

The low and distant rumble of the earth beneath their feet returned as Aro spoke to the Cullens.

Rolle dropped his eyes, praying that his anxiety wouldn't give them away, but he could not stop himself from rocking on his feet.

Marcus slowly descended the dais watching the room and the reactions, as his confusion began to bloom. Where was the distrust? Where were the indictments and anger? He glanced around the room, verifying the relationships he knew would be familiar.

He saw the familiar pale bonds that tied the Guard to one another, some were faint blues, others were orange. The bonds between the twins, Alec and Jane, were not manipulated by Chelsea. The ribbon between the twins was a deep purple, similar to the color he had seen between Edward and Alice long ago. The bright yellow bonds between Aro and Jane were expected. The petite vampire did not need to be coaxed into feeling affection and loyalty toward Aro, for it had been Aro that had saved her and her brother from the flames of a mob, damning them for consorting with the devil.

As Marcus moved around Caius, he saw again the ties between Aro and Carlisle as a myriad of greens, from the pale green of new leaves to the deeper hues of evergreen. The bonds of their friendship had not changed since Carlisle had left. There was no animosity from Carlisle at all.

Marcus circled the edges of the room as the discussion continued. He and Aro were in agreement that Carlisle was not the threat that Caius claimed. Aro had decided it was simply easier to quiet Caius' rants with proof, which was why he had sent Marcus to talk to Carlisle. Aro had effectively argued with Caius that Marcus was the right person to go because of his gift. If the Cullens did harbor ambitions for power, Marcus would have been able to see this animosity reflected toward him when he arrived at their home. Caius had fought to have someone go with Marcus, if only for his protection. Aro had appealed to Caius' strategic nature by implying that they could maintain their surprise advantage if it looked more like a social call and less like reconnaissance.

Marcus turned his head to glance at Caius. The color of the bonds between the two brothers had begun changing long ago, growing thinner as time wore on. After Caius' blunder when Aro came into the hall, the bond between the two of them was arching sharply between oranges and reds.

Marcus moved again, stepping behind Chelsea and Corin to get a better view. He could instantly see that Jane still harbored a peevishness toward Bella for being able to thwart her abilities. Simply by connection, that feeling extended to Edward. Instead of cinnabar ribbons, they looked more like javelins. The spears vibrated as Aro called for Jane. She had rarely been happier to obey her master.

That was when he saw it. Rolle's maddening fidgeting abruptly stopped. Marcus took two quick steps to see around Jane's influence and lined up the Cullens. The ties between them now extended to Rolle. Not only did they extend to the boy, they were brilliantly reciprocated.

Rolle threw back his hood, his eyes flashing to Marcus... as he realized their bonds... as Aro called Jane forward... as Jane's disturbing excitement peaked at the opportunity... as Bella shivered in anticipation.

Edward's head snapped up as if someone had suddenly screamed.

Marcus knew.

Rolle knew that Marcus had figured it out.

Marcus saw a sphere of blinding bright white erupt from the boy before he had to raise his arm to protect his eyes.

The room roared.

Time froze.

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **As always, I send my deepest gratitude and a healthy dash of love to **Irishgirl**, **Songster**, **LolaShoes** and **Emmanuelle Nathan**. Not for nuthin', but google docs ROCK for providing flexibility and feedback between a writer and their review team. It has helped all of us communicate, and this chapter would not be as fleshed out as it is now without this tool, and without these wonderful women. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for always being on top of her game. She's my Speed Racer over there and validates my chapters for posting.

**MUSIC:** _Uprising, by Muse_  
http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=w8KQmps-Sog

These abodes full of terror  
_The Myth of Orpheus  
_http://www(dot)renaissanceastrology(dot)com/orpheushymns(dot)html

ETRUSCAN GUARNACCI MUSEUM  
http://www(dot)comune(dot)volterra(dot)pi(dot)it/english/museiit/metru(dot)html  
(fanon) CARLISLE IN ITALY  
1720 - (1760?)  
Carlisle meets 19-yr old Mario Guarnacci

Rocca Vecchia  
http://www(dot)castellitoscani(dot)com/volterra(dot)htm  
Volterra is one of the most important historical Tuscan town, first great Etruscan 'metropolis' (or as the ancient said '_lucumonia_') then Roman settlement.

_Stregoni Benefici  
_Sorcerer Benefits (literal translation)  
http://nicetranslator(dot)com/  
http://www(dot)stregheria(dot)com/what(dot)htm


	16. Chapter 16 these realms of silence

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to somebody else that is not SM, but they're both women.**

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

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**Chapter 16: these realms of silence and uncreated things**

The sound of an explosion filled the room, as unexpected as a bomb and as loud as a hundred jet engines. Unlike a bomb, the sound did not fade. The resonance built upon itself, the cacophony growing deeper and fuller—and more painful—the longer it went on. The stone walls vibrated and dust began to shake free from eight hundred years of stasis in the nooks and crannies. Small pebbles jumped and skipped from the crevices where they'd been wedged by passing feet. As the sound grew, so did their dance until they were bouncing inches off the floor.

The passage of time, even in moments of abject terror, relies strongly on the mind's ability to process events, and only a vampire mind could process the speed at which events unfolded. A human would have only heard a mind-shattering noise that preceded a tumble of bodies being sprawled outside of the door. The two events happened so quickly it would have appeared as if an incantation that transported them there. To the vampires who endured that second of existence, time had simply stopped, trapping them and leaving no hope for escape.

The guards closest to the walls fell to their knees clutching their heads against the pain. Esme collapsed against Carlisle, her eyes wide in fear. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to shelter her even as he tried to cover his own ears with his hands. Edward and Bella struggled trying to protect one another. It did not help that they were familiar with the pain and nausea. It was the same feeling they had felt on the cliffs during the hurricane as they watched Rolle fight Demetri. The only thing they could do was hold each other, desperate to protect one another.

Rolle dared not look at the Cullens. The initial pulse had knocked them down and left them nauseous, and a low and uncomfortable hum reverberated through the room keeping them in their debilitated state. He couldn't stand to see the pain he was causing them, but had no idea how to spare them. He could only know with absolute certainty that this pain was nothing compared to what was possible if he allowed the Volturi to hurt them. He, also, couldn't bear to see the horror in their eyes as they looked fully into the face of his demon. His own eyes were hard and fearsome, the image of Gillian's broken body appeared before his eyes. No matter where he looked, the image floated in his line of sight as if it were burned into his retinas. His mind frantically repeated, _Not Bella. Not Bella._ even as he made a note of the pattern of dust falling through the air. With a quarter step to the left, the dust reacted and shifted. Rolle raised his chin a fraction, and the pattern shifted again.

Jane was the first to force herself to her feet, snarling at Rolle's attack but unable to clear her head to fight back. As she gained her feet the room pulsed with sound knocking her to the floor again. Her scream of pain ripped through the air. The ghosts of her victims rejoiced at the sound, the tables now turned.

The pulse made Renata vomit blood, losing her grip on Aro as she clutched her stomach, retching violently.

Carlisle caught the eyes of Edward and Bella as the pain crippled them, but they could easily see their pain wasn't as bad as the Volturi were experiencing. The faces of the other vampires contorted in agony, the likes of which they had not felt since the fires of their transformations.

Carlisle looked up. Edward and Bella's eyes followed his. They could see the dust ripple through the pulse waves, colliding and bouncing off other waves just above their heads. Like multiple stones thrown into a pool, the ripples fanned out and struck each other cancelling each other out altogether in some cases, though smaller deflected waves still rolled across the air at a fraction of their original strength. Rolle had somehow created a sort of bubble around them as these waves collided with the waves reflecting back off the stone walls.

Movement outside of their small sphere made them turn to look. Despite the small protected area around them, the sudden motion of turning to look, made worse by the sound attack, made their heads spin and nausea bloom within them.

The movement that drew their attention had been Caius. He had lurched to his feet and threw himself at Rolle with a scream of rage.

Despite the pain ripping through his body, Edward felt Rolle's mind disappear entirely as his mind aligned with Caius' and began to mimic the elder's singular focus and intent.

"No!" Edward cried out, but it was too late. Caius disappeared in a cloud.

The power of Rolle's true attack was utterly devastating. He seemed only to tap Caius on the shoulder as if he were politely trying to get his attention. The only thing more frightening to Edward was the thoughtless ease Rolle displayed. Rolle looked as if he wasn't even aware of what he had done. The act seemed to be completely unconscious and as automatic as a blinking eyelid simply wiping away a spec of dust from the eye. Rolle's blank and accepting mind operated like nothing more than a poisonous gas, designed for only one purpose: to waft through the air, resigned to inevitable destruction. Everything Edward had ever feared about Rolle was coming true. Rolle could kill them all without even realizing what he had done until it was too late.

"Carlisle!" Edward shouted as he grabbed Bella and rushed out of the chamber.

As soon as they breached the semi-circle of deflected waves, the full brunt of Rolle's attack struck them. The indescribable pain and the shocking power of it made Edward fall to his knees. The jolt with the floor made him cry out in agony. His knees and thighs cracked and fissured with the impact causing searing pain to shoot up his legs.

"Edward!" Bella screamed in fear. Edward's hand on her arm jerked her down and forward. The motion made her skin burn under the sleeve of her blouse, but the pain of it was nothing compared to the slicing terror he invoked in her when he cried out. Her mind reacted to the sound of his pain and fear. Rational thought was replaced an instinctive reaction she had no idea she possessed.

He was her only reason for existing. Protecting her sanity meant protecting Edward. The shield that protected her mind swelled past the confines of her body and engulfed him, buffering him from the effects of Rolle's attack. Edward felt some of the pain in his body abate and heard the anguish in Bella's thoughts as he was brought into the thicker walls of her shield. She put her arms under his and lifted him. The pain from the damage to his legs remained, but the feeling of being electrocuted had gone. Edward lurched from the floor and bolted for the door with his wife. He caught Marcus by the arm as they passed, pulling him out with them.

Carlisle tried to shield Esme as Jane's matching scream of rage preceded another pulse. With their arms wrapped around each other, Carlisle and Esme ducked out through bubble. As they dashed after Edward, they managed to pull Aro and Renata with them and plunged out of the room. The four of them collided with two other guards, scooping them up like a plow as they fell through the door, pushed out by yet other wave of sound marked by another plume of dust. Jane's scream ended abruptly.

Still shielded by Bella, Edward pushed past Carlisle and grabbed the shirt of another guard just inside the door. Carlisle pulled Edward back. The wrenching motion pulled Edward and the Guard through the threshold before the door slammed shut with a new wave of screams, now muffled behind the ancient wood. All three fell into the tangle of bodies still on the floor at the doorsill. Edward wasn't even sure whom he had rescued.

"Bella!" Edward said, frantic, pulling her into his arms. He buried his face against her neck, surrounding himself with her scent.

_I'm okay. I'm okay. Oh, my God! Rolle! I can't believe... _She felt her shield snap back. Her arms tightened desperately around Edward as she felt the separateness from him and used all her concentration to push her shield back around him again to no avail. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she whispered against his skin. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him close. She only hoped they'd survive this, wanting the quiet of their bed to hold him and love him, and talk to him about what she had just done.

Stumbling and pulling each other along, the ten that escaped moved down the hall away from the pulsing, roaring source of their pain. The unending sound resonated through the castle long after the screams stopped.

~•~

The survivors pulled themselves through the door of another tower of Rocca Nuova. It had been Felix that Edward rescued from the audience chamber, and he now fell against the heavy door coughing and sputtering as he hurried to bolt it.

"Carlisle!" Bella cried, seeing him hold up his damaged arm. Though it was still intact and connected to him, the crystalline skin was crisscrossed with a spider web with dark cracks.

"I'm all right," he said softly.

"How-?" She could not find the words to finish her thought.

"I'm not sure," he confessed. Even as he spoke the cracks faded and healed completely. He cupped Bella's cheek and kissed her forehead to calm her, then did the same to Edward, before turning to pull Esme close with a gusting sigh of relief.

Edward knew the same marks were deep across his legs, and felt them heal as well. He was grateful that his pants had hidden his injuries from Bella.

Aro pulled at the cravat at his neck as if feeling strangled by it and looked around the room. Caius was gone. Only he and Marcus remained, along with four of his precious guard: Felix, Alec, Chelsea and Renata. They had lost Jane, his most prized. After seeing how Rolle had instantly decimated Caius, Aro had little hope for the lives of the nine others in the room. Eleven! Eleven had been lost. Almost half of the Guard destroyed in barely a blink, but the thunderous sound still rolled through the halls like a deadly vapor.

"Aro!" Marcus said urgently, sliding his hand into his brothers.

As Aro saw what Marcus had witnessed in the audience chamber, his expression changed with understanding. Disbelief and shock filled his eyes as he looked at Carlisle for confirmation of this betrayal. Only Edward could hear the deep hurt that Aro felt at the duplicity. Only Edward could see the hurt curdle and sour in the elder's mind, rolling over onto itself to become dark and sinister anger. Aro turned a burning glare to all of the Cullens.

"What is this treachery?" Aro accused heatedly, his exquisite voice shaking as anger blossomed into rage.

At his words, the few remaining guards sluggishly rose to their feet. They moved as one into a defensive stance knowing only that they must protect their leaders. The Cullens followed suit and all but Carlisle dropped into a crouch.

"Wait! Please!" Carlisle begged, holding up his hands for calm. "This is not why we are here. We don't wish to fight!"

"Why _are_ you here?" Marcus demanded in a rare display of involvement.

"We came because of Rolle, to get him away from the things he'd absorb from being around you."

"You came for _him_?" Marcus challenged. "You wanted nothing to do with him!" he reminded them.

"No! He attacked us, but we didn't understand what he was doing."

"You sent a Trojan Horse to our gates!" Aro shouted. Upon hearing this, the guards snarled and tensed. "I would never have thought it of you, Carlisle," Aro continued.

"Aro, please listen to me!" Carlisle implored, growing panicked by the mounting animosity. "You have to let me explain."

"I have to do _nothing_," Aro snarled as the hurt of this betrayal morphed into rage. "Of all the kindness I have extended to you... treated you as a friend... sheltered and nurtured you as a brother... to think you would repay me like _this_!"

"We saved you!" Edward shouted, unable to remain silent any longer. "We came to prevent this from happening, but we couldn't. We pulled you from that room. We could have just left you in there."

Felix's eyes glanced between Edward to Aro, recognizing this truth, but not relaxing his position. Alec had immediately realized his twin was not among the survivors. His anguish at the loss of his sister, protector and best friend would not be forgiven. Chelsea and Renata, however, paused and shared a look between each other. They were alive, and their beloved Master was alive. Both women looked meekly at their lord.

Aro felt their eyes on him, but did not acknowledge them, turning his burning glare to Edward as this truth became evident. "You say you came to Volterra to get him away from our influence? Away from _us_?" Aro asked, though he repeated the words with malice.

"We think Rolle absorbs thought processes of others. We think this is why he is able to track people the way he does," Carlisle explained; grateful for this moment to do so. "I don't know what triggered him in that room... maybe he reacted because you called Jane forward to test Bella. I don't know."

The anger in Aro's face was replaced with a guarded look as he considered what was being said. The guards remained tense and defensive, their eyes were wide with disbelief from the amount of damage done during such a brief attack. No one had ever believed the rumors about a genocide of the vampires in Romania and Moldova. Caius had always scoffed that it was merely propaganda; a boast of power to instill fear into anyone who would challenge the Romanian elders. Caius was wrong. They now had first-hand knowledge of what had happened there.

Carlisle took advantage of the pause and continued to speak. "Truly, Aro, he acted on his own. He felt he was protecting us, acting on the rumors of Caius' inciting the Guard against my family. I would have never condoned such action against you."

"What would entice him to feel so protective of you?" Aro wanted to know. His tone was still waspish and angry.

"He lost his mate, and it destroyed him," Carlisle answered. "Caius' conjectures seemed particularly focused on Bella. He didn't want Edward to experience that loss."

Aro's eyes flickered toward Marcus as he recalled these events from his brother's memory. "I'm sorry, Carlisle," he said, though his tone was still accusing. "There are too many questions and doubts. I'll need more than your assertions." Aro held out his hand, staring expectantly. His eyes were cold and full of mistrust, but there was only one answer to this demand, for there was no way to interpret it as a request.

Carlisle looked at his wife. He had nothing to hide, but he hated the fact that this would violate her privacy as well as his own. As the man who had turned her, he knew the reasons behind her suicide. As her husband, he knew her more intimately than anyone ever would... at least, until Aro touched him.

Esme looked up into Carlisle's honeyed eyes. Always the gentleman, she loved him even more in that moment. With their world on the brink of collapse and their family in danger, _she_ was still his first priority. She stroked his cheek, then turned to look at Aro as she raised Carlisle's hand and placed it into his without fear or regret.

Aro could not help but note the strength in this woman. Under any other circumstances, he would have complimented Carlisle for finding such an intrepid woman as his mate, but there were too many questions demanding answers in the wake of such slaughter.

The first things Aro saw eased his mind immediately. Carlisle had never entertained thoughts of expanding his coven for power. His _family_ grew out of love and nothing more. The desire for power was nowhere in Carlisle's mind. He even shunned it in his human ruse at hospitals where he chose to spend his time, turning down positions of power and influence, wanting only to heal the sick. In all of the humans and immortals he had ever come across, Carlisle had never considered their skill or potential. It was as inconsequential as their appearance or manner of dress. He only considered the person they were and their character, which was why his family wanted to help Rolle. They weren't here because the boy was powerful, but because he was broken.

Aro also realized that Rolle had duped the Cullens by attacking them. The boy had sacrificed their good graces in order to trick Marcus into bringing him back to Volterra. Aro's lip twitched with a snarl. He could see now that Rolle had acted alone, exonerating the Cullen's involvement, but the boy was far craftier than he seemed.

When Aro saw the Romanians in Carlisle's memories, it was an enormous relief to know that Carlisle had not struck any sort of bargain or alliance with them. A flood of knowledge hit him all at once: the Romanian's story of finding Rolle, how they tested him, why they wanted him, how they evaluated Rolle's skills. A smirk pulled at his lips at the knowledge of Vladimir's disfigurement. At least, Rolle hadn't been lying about his anger toward the Romanians. He finally had a complete answer to the question of what had happened to the vampires of Romania. Rolle had destroyed them all when Stefan and Vladimir organized their countrymen to hunt and kill him. Aro enjoyed a moment of perverse irony that the very weapon the Romanians had hoped to use against them was the very weapon that had nearly obliterated the Romanian cabal once again.

To learn that Rolle was usually nomadic did not surprise Aro, considering the fact that the boy had survived almost seventy years without coming under scrutiny by the Volturi. What did surprise him, though, were the reasons for this. The Cullens believed that Rolle was a cognitive mimic, spending his time alone in the oceans to remove himself from outside influences whether he realized this or not. It also meant that the boy was easier to manipulate than he had already learned; _not_ a good candidate for a position high within the Volturi.

He saw that Edward's and Alice's gifts could be thwarted by Rolle when he was most confused and lost in his human memories and driven by his vampire needs to connect with his mate.

"Rolle is my friend," Edward affirmed, still tense. He stood with one arm behind his back, holding Bella behind him and close to his body. He shifted a half step further in front of her. He wanted only to get her away from all of this: Aro, what was left of the Guard, even Rolle and his passively violent powers. Every cell of his body needed her to be safe, even more than the rational part of his mind that knew a resolution needed to be found.

As if she understood his need to feel closer to her, Bella slid her fingers under the hem of his shirt, pressing her palm against the skin of Edward's back. The familiar tingle of electricity between felt like a balm. It had been present since the moment they first touched, reminding them of who they were and what they were together: stronger, complete, destined. Bella's leg slid closer to Edward's so their ankles touched. It was a small thing, but even the slightest touch brought them comfort.

Still holding Carlisle's hand, Aro met Edward's watchful eyes and glanced at Bella. _Brave Paris protecting the beautiful Helen._

Edward hated the way Aro scrutinized Bella and drew the elder's attention away from her. "You touched him. You know how fractured his mind is."

Aro met Edward's watchful eyes, knowing he was reading him. He did not try to impede Edward, but shared with the telepath that he _had_ been able to read Rolle's mind—even if it was painful to do so—and what he had read was Rolle's psychosis and damage. Aro's eyes tightened as he began considering what to do next. The roaring through the halls had not slackened. If anything, it had intensified while they had been talking.

"Let me go to him," Edward said. Bella gasped behind him, her fingers pressed hard against his back.

"No!" Carlisle said quickly. "No, Edward," he repeated, shaking his head. "He's not in control and needs to be calmed down. You can't give that to him right now, not with Bella here."

Edward wanted to argue, but it had been out of his fear for Bella that he had offered.

"You think you can stop him?" Aro wanted to know, releasing Carlisle's hand.

Carlisle thought for a moment, unsure if he indeed could stop Rolle, when he felt Esme slip her hand into his. He turned to look at her and his immediate refusal to let her go with him died on his lips. Her expression was exactly as it had been in the woods that night they made love: confident, reassuring, and eternal. There was not even the fear that he would go back on his promise in her steady gaze. His fingers tightened around hers.

He looked back and Aro, shaking his head and shrugging. "I don't know. I can only try."

It took all of Edward's concentration to keep the sneer off his face as he heard Aro's thoughts. Either Carlisle could stop the destruction of the guards or Rolle would kill Carlisle, too.

"All right," Aro agreed.

As Carlisle and Esme moved toward the door, Bella reached out and grabbed Esme's hand. Alice's fears for Carlisle bubbled violently to the surface. Was this it? Was this what Alice saw? Alice had refused to tell her any more. Maybe, with Rolle in his broken state, she had been unable to really see, but Edward's reaction to the vision still frightened her. She looked at Edward to see if there was any recognition in his face that these were the events he had seen, but Edward's focus was still on the threat before them now.

The terror in Bella's face tore at Esme's maternal instincts. Seeing fear in her daughter's eyes made her pull Bella into a comforting embrace. She cupped Bella's cheek and kissed her. "Be brave," she said.

As the Volturi stepped aside to let Carlisle and Esme pass, Edward once again heard Aro's thoughts. Rolle was simply too powerful and too uncontrollable. If Carlisle could stop him, Aro meant to have the assassin destroyed.

"What?" Edward said aloud. "No!"

Carlisle stopped with his hand on the door. "Edward?"

"He plans to have Rolle killed if you succeed," Edward said, staring accusingly at Aro.

Carlisle looked questioningly at Aro. "Is this true?"

"You always were too compassionate," Aro said. "You'd leave a rabid dog to run freely on the streets?"

"Rolle is _not_ a rabid dog!" Carlisle maintained. "He's no different than any of us."

Aro stared at Carlisle with the indulgent expression of a parent dealing with a child's tantrum. "You just admitted that he wasn't in control, so which is it?"

"All life is precious, even his. Even ours," Carlisle said strongly, and for a moment, he heard his own father's voice in his mind. Though William Cullen had touted that only human life was precious, Carlisle had abandoned his father's faith when William learned of his son's curse and had him hunted. Carlisle had vowed to be better than that man.

"You know, as well as any, that an unstable vampire is a danger to us all," Aro snarled. "We can _not_ tolerate any that would break our laws and risk exposure!" he enunciated, angry that Carlisle was being impudent.

"I will not go in there to stop him knowing that you only wait to outside to destroy him!" Carlisle shot back. "I believe in his strength of character. I believe he acts only out of a will to do good."

"Do you now?" Aro sneered, growing thoughtful as he looked around the room at Carlisle's family. "And exactly how strong is that belief, hmm? Would you risk your family?"

Carlisle's jaw clenched.

Aro gave him a hard stare in return. "But you're right," he continued. "Why should they suffer for your indiscretion concerning this boy? If he starts killing again, it will be your life that is forfeit."

Carlisle looked at Esme, but her confidence in him had not wavered. If he believed Rolle could be saved, then they would save him, together.

"Could that be hesitation I sense?" Aro asked, breaking the silence.

Carlisle looked at Edward and Bella. Both looked conflicted about his course of action, and both looked afraid for him. He wondered if their fear was based on his recent ennui or if they thought he might fail on purpose just to use Rolle for his painless ability to end existence. He knew he had to do something to ease their minds.

He looked at Aro and said, "Agreed."

"Carlisle!" Edward's expression said more than his words could. "I'll go with you!"

"We'll all go," Bella added quickly.

"No!" Esme ended the discussion, refusing to risk two people she loved as if they were truly her own children. "Carlisle is right. You can't do this. He's upset." _Edward, he did this for you and Bella._

Carlisle agreed. "Edward, we don't know the range of Rolle's abilities, so I need you to calm down. If he senses from you that Bella is still in danger, I don't know if he'll listen to me."

Edward felt the sudden weight of his responsibility and, glancing around the small room, realized the near impossibility of achieving that state of composure.

"You have my word she will be safe. Edward has nothing to fear," Aro offered. When disbelieving expressions turned to him at the same time, he said simply, "What choice do we have? There is no lock on the audience chamber's door, and I doubt it would stop the assassin anyway. So I have to wonder why he hasn't yet come to finish what he's begun."

Silence filled the small room as each of them wondered the same.

_Everything will be all right,_ Carlisle silently reassured Edward. _ I promise._

Esme caught Bella's face between her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When she pulled back and met Bella's eyes, she caressed her cheeks with her thumbs, and a silent communication passing between the two women. It was a thousand feelings and a million words. It was promises made and fears exchanged. It was a strength they shared because of the men they loved.

It was family. And Afton wasn't there anymore to tease them about it.

~•~

Esme only made it halfway up the corridor before the nausea was too much. With a gasp, she lurched to the side and emptied her stomach. Carlisle, doing the only thing he could, held her hair back for her and waited helplessly for it to pass.

She laughed weakly when he handed her a handkerchief. "This brings back memories," she offered with a wan smile. "I don't think I've been sick like that since I was pregnant."

"Stand behind me," Carlisle suggested. "It might help a little."

Esme nodded and they continued on to the audience chamber. The roaring was ceaseless, and the pulses came sporadically. The closer Carlisle and Esme got, though, the worse they felt. The discomfort was indescribable. Carlisle tried to keep his mind off the feeling by trying to classify it in medical terms. His limbs were weak and he felt tired. There was an odd tingling throughout his body and what he could only classify as an incredible headache, though he hadn't had one in over 400 years. When the sound pulsed, he felt dizzy. Vertigo swept over him. At those times, he thought the floor looked farther away than it actually was. The disorientation only added to the nausea. If he were human, he would have diagnosed this disorder as radiation sickness.

When they stood on the other side of the door, Carlisle pressed his face against the stone wall, reassuring himself that the walls were not spinning. The rock was unexpectedly warm to his touch. Esme's hands rested on either side of his waist. He felt her rest against his back.

"Ready?" he asked her.

Esme swallowed hard, fighting the retching sensation. With an indelicate sniff, she said, "As I'll ever be."

The door's handle felt hot to his hand and the hinges groaned as he pulled the heavy reinforced door open. They didn't know what they expected to find inside, but even without expectations, they were shocked by what they saw.

The room seemed filled with a heavy smoke, but the billowy cloud was not a gas. It was a dense swirling dust that hung in the air. One of the thrones was missing from the dais. As before, Carlisle could make out an area in the center of the room that seemed to be a convergence point where the sound waves cancelled each other out. Wrapping his arm around Esme, Carlisle stumbled back into the room, trying to reach that small bubble. The pain sliced through their bodies. Each step felt as if their legs would shatter with the impact of their footfalls. As soon as they pierced the bubbles wall, they both gasped in relief.

Several things registered instantly. First, they were already both covered in a fine layer of gray dust. Second, there was an enormous hole in the wall leading outside. Third, the cloud of dust was swirling out into the sky, scattering quickly. Lastly, Rolle stood across the room from them. He was completely still, obviously unaffected by his own power. Neither of them could see Rolle doing anything obvious that created the destructive sound. Like them, he was covered in the gray dust. He stood facing the wall, which was only an inch away from his nose.

"Rolle!" Carlisle called to him.

There was no reaction.

"Rolle, please!" Esme tried. They stared, unsure how to pull him back.

"He might be angry that Edward and Bella are here," Carlisle said close to her ear.

"He wouldn't get mad at them," Esme said, leaning close to Carlisle's ear as she spoke. "He'd be afraid for them, but not angry."

They watched Rolle's unmoving form as the dust swirled and thinned in the air. The sun peeked at the edges of the fractured wall, catching Rolle in profile and showering part of the room in rainbows.

"There's no music," Esme said suddenly, recalling a night so long ago now, and how Edward broken through to Rolle by playing the piano. She started humming one of Edward's compositions.

Carlisle watched her trying to reach the young man. When that song didn't work, she started humming a lullaby, and Carlisle had to look away. He knew it was the song she used to sing to her infant son while he was sick. He was overcome with admiration and love of Esme's unflappable conviction that they could succeed in this when he was not certain they would.

He felt the lethargy lapping at his heels again. He did not know what to do. He did not know what to say. How many times had he been able to act without thinking? How many times had his hands reached for exactly the right instrument to save a life? How many times had he puzzled out an illness, noticed a symptom, healed flesh, mended bones, and now he couldn't even press two thoughts together to find a way to reach Rolle? Anything! _Anything!_

He hated this feeling, this helplessness. He hated not knowing if he could keep his family safe.

He heard Rolle sob across the room, startling him out of his own despair. Rolle's chin dropped to his chest and his face pinched in pain. His shoulders began to shake before he leaned back and drove his forehead hard into the wall. Black cracks created a spider web across his forehead and temple.

"NO!" Esme screamed, and without hesitation she leapt up and charged out of the neutral bubble to save Rolle from destroying himself. As soon as she was out of the protective space, she crumpled to the floor and began retching.

"Esme!" Carlisle cried as fear ripped through him.

The dust in the room shifted sharply and fell as a heavy wave surged through the marble room.

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **Love and thanks to my volunteer peanut gallery: **Irishgirl**, **Songster**, **LolaShoes**, **Milalencar **and **Emmanuelle Nathan**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

A quick personal note... due to some bumps in my personal road, I may not be able to post on a schedule any longer. My "buffer" of written chapters has been consumed, and I'm now writing and posting back to back. As some of you have noted, the detail in this story is deeply interwoven into the events unfolding. The only way to do that right is to write ahead, discover things that need to be fixed, and do so before a chapter posts! My outline is very detailed for exactly that reason, but as these characters are wont to do, they often take tangents all on their own. I'll do my best to stick to a schedule for you, though. Rest assured, however, that this story _will_ be completed (barring bus accidents, alien abductions or other unacceptable sudden death events or inexplicable disappearances)

these realms of silence and uncreated things  
The Myth of Orpheus  
http://www(dot)renaissanceastrology(dot)com/orpheushymns(dot)htm

Esme's lullaby  
Fly Away Home soundtrack, Rememberance of Things Past  
http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=csI-TU35Ndo


	17. Chapter 17 The Stygian Realm

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to me, myself and I. But **_**I**_** gets all the credit. **_**Me**_** is cash only. **_**Myself**_** takes the blame.**

**Bonus 8k word update to soothe the sting of a delay after such a wicked cliffie! **

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

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**Chapter 17: The Stygian Realm**

Eleven members of the Volturi, gone. In less time than it took to blink, Caius and Jane vanished in a cloud of dust along with nine other highly talented and powerful vampires. On a fool's errand, Carlisle assured Aro that he could stop the crazed assassin and left the feeble shelter they had all escaped to. Felix quickly moved to the door and closed it after Carlisle and Esme, muffling the sounds from the hall once again. Without thinking of the futility of his action, he bolted the door.

Aro stared at the closed door. "Penny wise, pound foolish," he muttered, shaking his head.

Bella turned in Edward's shaking arms and pressed her face to his shoulder. He pulled her tight to him and pressed his lips against her skin as her shield enveloped him. She felt the tension in his body collapse against her as the familiarity of her mind slid into his.

Though her mind was repeating _they'll be okay, they'll be okay_ for him, another part of her mind was begging, _please let them be okay. _Edward heard both her brave support as well as her fear for the two people who were as much parents to her as Renee and Charlie.

Bella felt him nod with a small motion against her, but she knew him well enough to know the turmoil in him without having the power to read his mind. She knew that part of him was now walking down the corridor with Carlisle and Esme, listening to their thoughts and seeing through their eyes. She knew how it was killing him to not be with them now. She felt the same.

Edward focused on Bella's physical presence in his arms, needing her to anchor him as he let his two oldest and closest companions step into danger. He had asked them to. He had asked for their help and they were here, now, putting themselves at risk. With his love clutched in his arms, and his mind and body consumed with the fear for her safety, Edward suddenly found himself asking, _why_? Why would Carlisle and Esme do this? Why would they risk each other over someone they barely knew? Someone who had even recently betrayed them? They had so much to lose. They had as much to lose as he did, if their roles were reversed.

Part of Edward's awareness followed Esme and Carlisle down the corridor, admiring how their bravery overcame their fear as long as they were together. Edward winced as he saw Esme vomit, overcome by the physical reaction of the sound. Her thoughts suddenly took an ironic mental tone as she recalled the Golden Eagle that had been her last meal, and how she thought it opportune at the time to catch such a rare snack. _It escaped after all_, Esme thought as her stomach cramped painfully and she heaved again.

Edward was drawn back to his wife when he felt Bella's fists clutch at his shirt. Her arms tighten painfully around him as her own mind wandered the path of her memories, back to the battle against Victoria's army. Edward had stayed with her during that fight because she reasoned and begged him to, trapping him in his own logic. She had known how selfish her request had been, but she also knew she would do it again in an instant because once again she was torn between wanting to help Rolle and knowing for a fact that she could not let Edward go. It came down to simple priorities and Edward was hers, followed closely by the rest of their family. Bella shivered as she questioned her own motives. Was she a good person? She wanted to think she'd do anything for her friends, but now being forced to choose... Rolle was not a priority in her life; good friend or not. Had they made a mistake in coming to Italy? Was she asking too much of her family? Were they risking too much? Was all of this drama and destruction worth it?

Edward listened to Bella's mind in silence, unwilling to share any part of her internal processing with the Volturi. He wished she could read _his_ mind. Being forced to make a choice between his family and his wife—the woman he had waited over a century to find, whom he could not live without—crushed him under the weight of selfishness and responsibility. Hadn't Carlisle waited even longer to find Esme?

Edward knew that it wasn't in Bella's nature, either, to stay behind and let others face danger alone. He knew that Bella wanted to help as much as he did, but the idea of her putting herself in harms way... Even the thought of it brought a black precipice into view where eternity ended for both of them if something happened to either one of them.

Edward would not allow Bella to put herself in danger, and Bella would not allow Edward. They would both sacrifice themselves before they'd let that happen and this situation simply locked them into immobility. They were left to suffer their guilt over their inability to risk the life of their mate; letting others face that danger instead.

As Edward watched through the eyes of Esme and Carlisle, he fought his anger toward Rolle again. He knew Rolle had the best of intentions and that he only came to Italy in a misguided attempt to protect all of them, especially Bella. No one could have guessed that Rolle had so little control over his power. He surely did not intend for things to go so awry. Even so, it was impossible for Edward to contain his frustration knowing that two people who were important to him—to all of them—were about to risk their lives.

As Carlisle and Esme fought their way to the middle of the audience chamber, Edward choked in pain as Alice's vision came into focus in his memory.

~•~

"Esme!" Carlisle shouted, jumping after her.

"NO!" Rolle wailed in despair, leaning back and smashing his head against the wall again. His knees buckled this time. Dark cracks ran down his temples and jaw now, inching their way through his hair.

Carlisle fell to the floor beside his wife, grunting in pain as a split second before the sound wave pulsed through the air. Spiderweb cracks formed across Carlisle's hands again with the impact as the sound waves literally destabilized the molecules of his body. Fear for Esme's life ripped through Carlisle. What had made her jump out of the scant safety of the bubble's interference zone? He ignored the pain and pulled Esme to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to shelter her with his body.

But even as the terrorized question burned through Carlisle's mind, he realized he knew the answer. Esme was a mother in her deepest soul. She was caring, nurturing and selfless to a fault when it came to protecting anyone she felt maternal towards. She had been a grieving mother the day she died and Carlisle had frozen that grief in her for eternity.

She was trapped in that grief just like Rolle, but unlike Rolle, Esme had found a way to redirect her anguish by substituting her lost son with an entirely new family.

That's why she just risked her life to save the wayward boy. It was Esme who truly understood Rolle's pain better than any of them, even better than Edward. She felt a connection to Rolle and she had risked her life to save him, just as she had thrown away her life when she couldn't save her first son.

It had been Esme all along, Carlisle realized. _She_ was the standard of parental loyalty and dedication to her children, not that deplorable man in Montreal who had abandoned his children at their greatest moment of need. Esme would have thrown herself onto the bomb in the hospital, just as she had tried to throw herself onto the 'bomb' in this room. She would risk her own life to save Rolle's.

"No, please no." Rolle's cry was small and weak and he fell to his knees, curling in half with his arms wrapped around his shoulders.

A stronger wave passed over them and Carlisle's breath left in a whoosh as he felt it crush him.

In a distant part of the castle, Edward roared in fear, still within range of them to hear their thoughts.

_Edward, no!_ Carlisle's eyes widened in horror at the thought of them all being destroyed, for surely Bella would be right at Edward's side.

~•~

Edward's eyes were distant and unfocused as he listened intently to what was going on in the audience chamber: Esme's horrified realization of what Rolle was trying to do to himself by smashing his head into the wall, Carlisle's jolt of fear for his wife as her maternal instincts took over and she leapt into danger.

Esme's sacrifice, Carlisle's pain... it was exactly as Alice had foreseen. Panic gripped Edward as Alice's vision ended and reality of the situation took hold. She hadn't been able to see the end, only the events leading up to this moment.

"NO!" Edward roared.

He was moving before he released Bella, some part of him not able to let her go. Bella didn't even think to question him. She leapt into action beside him, moving as one mind, one body; both of them rushing to the door to save Carlisle and Esme.

Aro appeared before the door, moving even before Renata could react. Bracing his arms before his chest, he absorbed the momentum of the couple and flung them both backwards. They flew across the small room, striking the far wall with a sharp crack.

It was as good as slapping them across the face. As one, Bella and Edward got to their feet. Their first instinctive reactions were to snarl threats at Aro for attacking the other: Edward reacting to Bella being attacked, and Bella reacting likewise to Edward being attacked. They threw one arm before each other in mirror-perfect synchronization to shield the other. Before it could be identified, the reason changed from a protective reaction into outrage at Aro's interference. The few remaining guards crouched in defense of their masters.

"Are you quite done?" Aro asked, irritated.

"Get out of our way!" Edward snarled.

"Don't be absurd," Marcus snapped.

"Despite what you may think of us, our word is not something we give lightly." Aro's voice was thick with menace. "Do not presume to challenge us in this," he warned. "I promised to keep your dear wife safe, therefore I cannot allow you to drag her into the middle of destruction."

A moment of confusion flashed across Edward's eyes before he understood what Aro was talking about, and what he had just prevented them from doing. How had he gone from lamenting his capacity to confronting Rolle because he could not allow Bella to risk herself, to instantly rushing to Carlisle's aide with no thought for his wife's safety?

Even Aro could see the quandary in Edward over what he and Bella had tried to do. _Such loyalty. Such instinctive devotion_, Aro thought, breaking through Edward's guilt.

As Aro mused over these traits, carefully dampening his covetous thoughts, Bella pulled Edward's arm to turn him. She looked up into his eyes, giving him silent reassurances with her mind as she asked aloud, "Are they safe? Can you still hear them?"

Edward nodded. "But it's harder. They're in pain. So much pain," he whispered.

"What are you seeing?" Bella needed to know.

~•~

Carlisle raised his head and found Rolle looking right back at him with the same hopelessness and panic in his face that Carlisle felt. Suddenly, the key to the puzzle snapped into place. Rolle was mimicking his despair! Rolle's mind had begun to duplicate everything Carlisle was thinking and feeling; the fear, the inability to stop this, impotent with anguish knowing the people he loved were now seconds from destruction.

Rolle had tried to kill himself or damage himself badly enough to save them all from his own power. Esme had figured out what he was doing and had risked her own life to stop him.

Even Rolle's posture now, curled over as he was, duplicated Carlisle's protective stance over Esme. Carlisle suddenly understood if he did not bring order and control to his own mind, then he would be as guilty as Rolle when Edward burst through the door.

Carlisle focused on Esme in his arms, marveling at her strength of conviction and the depth of her loyalty. She was the antithesis of the reprehensible man who had deserted his dying children. He was amazed that a small body like hers could house such an enormous heart. She was the embodiment of strength and courage, and she had chosen him. He recalled the first time she whispered "I love you" to him, the way she moaned his name when they were intimate, and the day of their hand-fasting as the ribbon draped over their clasped hands.

No sooner had he fixed these memories in his mind, the pulsing stopped and Carlisle felt Esme slide her hand into his. As the pain slackened, Esme tried to move her head to see Rolle, worried that the pulsing stopped because he may have succeeded in hurting himself. The deep roar in the room remained, despite Rolle smashing his head into the stone wall. She could only guess that if Rolle succeeded in injuring himself, the noise would stop. She drew strength from her husband as they both looked up to find Rolle on the floor several feet away.

A crisscross of black and grey lines deeply marred his pale forehead where he had struck the wall, but his eyes were pleading now. Carlisle lifted Esme to her knees and together they moved along the floor toward Rolle. Likewise, Rolle crawled toward them.

_We can do this,_ Carlisle began to chant in his mind. _I know we can do this!_ He tried to stoke the conviction with images of Rosalie and Emmett. _They are worth it,_ he thought. _And Jasper and Alice._ The words were a memory; Esme's words to him on the cliffs near their home. _They're all worth it. It all matters._

They continued to crawl towards one another. The din of the roaring engines began to dampen.

_It matters to this one,_ Carlisle thought at last, reaching out to Rolle who reached back grasping for Carlisle's hand.

Esme and Carlisle pulled Rolle into their arms and held him. He cried tearlessly against Esme's neck as she rocked him.

"It's all right, little starfish,' she murmured to him. "We have you now."

Carlisle stared at his wife before he pulled them into his arms, humbled with the knowledge that Esme had given voice to his thoughts.

"You're not a gun," he quietly insisted to Rolle, repeating the proclamation that Rolle had made to him what felt like a lifetime ago.

~•~

Edward used discretion in repeating what he could see and hear from Esme and Carlisle's attempts to calm Rolle. He described the state of the room and the absence of any of those who could not get out in time. However, he left out the personal thoughts and emotions he could discern through the eyes of his family.

"My sister?" Alec asked softly with an unreadable expression.

Edward met his eyes and listened to the quiet fear in Alec's mind a moment before slowly shaking his head. Chelsea moved to Alec and put her arm around his shoulders. Edward understood his loss, but could not bring himself to mourn Jane after all she'd done, even if it had been at the behest of her masters. She took too much pleasure in the pain of others.

"Does Carlisle have him under control?" Aro wanted to know.

Shaking his head, Edward answered, "They have him calmed somewhat, but he's still volatile. He's still afraid for us."

"So he's still triggered," Aro restated, being more blunt in his analysis.

"You could call it that, yes."

"Are they able to talk to him, such as he is?"

"Yes. They're both talking to him now."

~•~

Esme stroked Rolle's head, soothing him with her touch and gentle rocking. The explosive noise was gone, faded now to only a low rumble. She placed a kiss on his temple as the deep black cracks began to lighten and fade.

"I can't stop making the same mistakes," Rolle whimpered. His voice was airy gasps as he confessed his mind to them.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Esme asked.

A sad noise bubbled from Rolle's throat at the euphemistic pet name. He knew there was nothing sweet in his heart.

"I'm my own enemy." The words slurred together and came out as a sigh. "Everything comes out wrong. I said I wouldn't hurt Caius and I did it anyway. I thought... I just wanted..." He gave up trying to finish his thought. "I'm sorry I failed you, Carlisle," he said. "I was afraid. When I saw all of you were here, I..." Rolle suddenly sat back from Esme with a fearful gasp. "Bella? She...?"

"She's fine," Esme hurried to assure him, and Rolle dropped his face into his hands. "Edward is with her. They're both safe." She stroked his head again.

"I needed a second chance," Rolle muttered through his hands. "I feel like I've been screaming for a second chance. I just needed a reason, but I did it all wrong... all over again."

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked gently.

Rolle wiped his hands across his face, but couldn't meet Carlisle's eyes. "I had to become something I'm not. I had a choice, but it was like I was reliving history."

Esme looked at her husband over Rolle's hunched shoulders, shaking her head in confusion.

Carlisle lowered his voice and asked, "Do you mean like when Gillian died?" Rolle nodded. "Will you tell us?"

Rolle thought about that night, remembering what he had done and what he became. He didn't want Carlisle and Esme to know he what he was capable of. In a lot of ways, the catastrophe of the past few hours was sedate and clinical compared to the other time.

At his continued silence, Carlisle tried another approach. "I don't think you can be entirely blamed for what happened here, Rolle."

A disbelieving snort and bitter laugh was Rolle's reply.

"It's true," Carlisle maintained. "Well, I _think_ it's true. There's no way to know for sure. As far as I know, you're the only one to ever have a gift like yours."

"Gift?" Rolle said with disdain.

"Yes. Gift. We think your mind can copy the decision-making thoughts of others."

Silence greeted this revelation, but Rolle's breathing increased and the set of his shoulders tensed under Esme's caressing hands.

"Wh-what?" The word sounded like a gasp.

Esme's little smile encouraged Carlisle to continue. "We think you attacked Caius because _he_ wanted to attack," Carlisle said slowly. "It appears that your mind has the ability to duplicate others around you. Or not around you," he added as an afterthought. "We're not sure. We think it's the way you can track people. You told Jasper that it's easier for you to track people you know, but that you could also track people you've never met so that part is still a puzzle."

Rolle listened, dumbfounded by this revelation as his face froze into a mask of shock. How many times had he tried to tell people that _he just knew_? He had never understood how he knew what he did, assuming it was simply intuition. He thought about the night he killed Gillian's murderer. He had become a crazed animal in his hunt for vengeance, and yet... he simply _knew_ where the killer would be that night.

He had followed the man for over a month, learned his patterns, his routines. Rolle knew his favorite radio shows, his favorite foods, how he took his coffee. He had stalked the man for so long, he didn't even recognize himself: dirty, debased, starved, drinking from mud puddles... Had he simply learned the man's routines or had it been something else?

"You actually found the best way of calming the power of your gift quite by accident," Carlisle explained, interrupting Rolle's new understanding. "Emmett thinks you spend so much time in the ocean because it separates you from the influences of others."

Rolle sat up, thinking back on what he felt as he travelled from place to place. Even coming to this castle, he knew what to expect; the moment of dizziness, the sense of being goaded, powerful urges to do... something. Was this why? Could it be true?

Rolle struggled for a moment to look at either of them. He chose the easier path and hesitantly looked at Esme. She nodded and smiled at him before reaching up and running the back of her fingers against his cheek.

~•~

Edward looked at Bella, adding, "He's asking about you."

"Can we go to him?" she implored. "He needs to see that we're okay."

"That would be the safest time to deal with him, Aro," Marcus said unexpectedly. As everyone turned to look at him in surprise—an action he was more accustomed to now—Marcus displayed his rare gift for manipulation and strategy. "The boy will pull himself away in guilt."

Bella gasped in shock and anger, glaring at Marcus.

"Carlisle and I have an understanding," Aro said.

"You could deal with the boy and NOT let Carlisle risk himself further if Rolle fails in his charge."

Edward heard Marcus' unspoken continuation of that thought._ Because I know you value Carlisle more than Rolle._

Aro considered Marcus' words for a moment, then asked Edward, "What's happening now?"

"Carlisle is trying to determine if Rolle understands what his gift is doing, if he has any understanding of how to control it."

Aro was quiet as he considered this and began to weigh the options. "I'll give Carlisle the benefit of the doubt for now."

~•~

Carlisle knew Rolle was truly listening to him, but if they were to have any hope at all of helping him, he needed to face a very harsh truth. "Rolle," he began slowly, "I need to tell you something... and I need you to be open to hearing it."

Fear laced Rolle's eyes as he looked at Esme, but he drew strength from her calm. She nodded; explaining without words that she knew and agreed with whatever Carlisle was going to say.

"I know some part of you knows this truth. We're... we're vampires. Not demons. And this place," Carlisle gestured around the room, "this isn't Hell, but that's not why Gillian isn't here."

Esme did not pause as she rubbed soothing circles on Rolle's shoulders, even when he turned slowly to look at Carlisle.

Rolle's expression was like that of a patient when Carlisle would have to tell them they were dying; it was a trapped look of confusion, denial and fear. Before he could respond, they heard footsteps approaching.

Carlisle worried about Rolle's volatility. He could still hear the threatening rumble though it had faded to the sound of a distant truck. "Rolle," he hurried to explain. "I know this is a lot for you to think about, but we don't have time right now. You have another power that is far more dangerous. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Rolle nodded mutely.

"Do you know how it works?" Carlisle needed to know.

Rolle shook his head, but said, "It's like what whales can do, when they talk to each other across the ocean."

"Do you have any control over it at all?" Carlisle asked.

"I watch waves a lot," he answered in a blank automatic tone. He answered without thinking about what he was saying, his mind furiously trying to reconcile what Carlisle had just told him. "I know how they work. It acts like that sometimes. Like waves."

~•~

Felix was first through the door, though he did not rush in as he once might have. Edward and Bella followed him with Aro and Renata behind them, cautiously lingering at the door.

Relief washed over Bella's expressive face at the sight of Carlisle and Esme unharmed. She clutched Edward's arm and he squeezed her hand in return, but they did not hurry across the room to be with their family. Instead, they carefully evaluated Rolle's state and body language, hiding their concern about his proximity to them.

"Are you all right?" Bella asked. It seemed directed to all three of them in general.

Carlisle nodded, but remained close to Rolle as Aro's eyes roved over the entire room.

Never in Aro's long life had he ever experienced such a massive loss. The dust had thinned, and both Cullens and Rolle were covered in the fine gray powder that looked like volcanic ash. The sunlight in the chamber drew him deeper into the room to discover its source. The destruction was extensive. The entire eastern side of the chamber was absent. There were no rocks or rubble scattered around the hole, but more of the dust lingered in drifts near the walls. Caius was gone. Almost half of the Guard—hand-selected, watched, nurtured as their powers developed... all gone.

He did not attempt to hide the glower on his face when he thought of Jane and all the hard work he had put into perfecting her. She, at least, had not been sullied by Caius. Her ambitions never stretched beyond that of pleasing Aro and serving his will. The rest, well... Despite the misgivings he felt about the Guards who bore witness to Caius' slander, their loss was never assured. It was true that he initially questioned how Caius' rant would affect them, but Aro knew it was just more work: watching, evaluating, and testing them all over again. Their loyalty or value was no longer an issue, but their loss, not just as talented guards but as companions, was bitter.

Aro thought of the others, scattered around the world right now, fulfilling their roles as Volturi. He'd have to summon them all back. The repercussions of this began to weigh on him. This would all have to be explained to the others in a way that did not show weakness. He turned and leveled his glare on Rolle, sitting between Carlisle and Esme. He could not save face if he let the boy live, especially not after the recent years of Caius' whispering about the Cullen's secret maneuverings for power. He had no desire to kill or punish Carlisle, especially now that he knew his old friend had never wavered in his loyalty. But their arrival to Volterra followed by the near decimation of the Guard only corroborated Caius' suspicions. If only he had kept his notions to himself, this could all be handled easily. Now the matter called for a delicate resolution that would not provoke the few remaining Guard from doing exactly what Demetri had done: taken matters into his own hands. The Cullen's arrival and survival after this havoc had to be explained. The Guard would demand justice.

"Aro," Edward warned in a low voice, shaking his head. Bella looked between Aro and her husband, wondering what Edward had heard, but unable to ask him.

_You know the awkward position this leaves in me, Edward, _he said through his mind. _I cannot maintain control like this._ Without moving his head, Aro glanced toward Felix and Alec who, tensed like snakes, were glaring daggers at Rolle.

Edward listened to them. Alec was inconsolable, staring at his sister's killer. Felix sought revenge for Demetri and Afton. The three of them fancied themselves the natural heirs to the Volturi brothers.

"Can you read him?" Aro asked aloud.

Edward quickly understood that Aro was asking about Rolle, and wondered if Aro knew about these fanciful desires for power.

Rolle looked up, meeting Edward's gaze and Edward saw himself and Bella in Rolle's mind. Their faces and hands were smudged with dirt, but it was Bella's fierce expression that made Edward pause. He looked at her with his own eyes. Her expression matched her thoughts. Still wary of the Volturi in the room, she was intensely curious about what Edward could hear from the others. After wading through layers of Rolle's guilt, Edward could hear again the unflinching vein of his friend's loyalty; his determination that nothing would ever harm or threaten Bella's safety.

"Yes," Edward answered, returning his gaze to Rolle. "He's still worried about Bella's safety." Everything he said felt like a betrayal and Edward conveyed an apology through his eyes to Rolle. "He's afraid that his actions have been indefensible to that end."

There was so much more he wanted to say, but knew that Aro was right in being concerned about his hold over the Guard. The only way to do that was to be open with Aro, and Aro alone. Wanting to put Bella's fears to rest and include Carlisle and Esme in everything he knew, Edward turned to face Aro as he added, "I need to speak with you privately."

The warning hiss of outrage from the remaining Guard was not unexpected.

Aro glanced around the room at the Guard before meeting Marcus' eyes. Without being verbally summoned, Marcus came forward to his brother's side and raised his hand. The outright hostility in the form of red snapping ribbons from Felix and Alec was not surprising. Ever the survivalist, the wariness from Chelsea was also not surprising. She feared for her own life and orange-reds focused on the Cullens spoke more about her fear, knowing that her only hope—small as it was—could be found in the power of numbers: six Volturi and five Cullens, not great odds considering Rolle had just eliminated eleven of them and half the castle.

"My friends seem to consider a parlay to be ill-advised," Aro pointed out.

Edward's patience came to an end. "If you ever had any kind of control, none of this would have ever happened." Edward ignored the snarls of outrage from the Guard that filled the room. "If you would have stopped Caius' ridiculous propaganda, Demetri would never have come hunting for us. Marcus would never have come to our home. Rolle would never have felt the need to protect us!" he shouted. "All of this could have been averted."

"Edward," Bella whispered urgently. "Please." _Don't provoke them._

Esme felt Rolle's shoulders tense under her hands as the distant rumbling spiked. Rolle moaned in despair and clamped his hands to his head. Bella took a half step toward him, but was held back by Edward.

"Stop!" Esme shouted. "All of you! Stop this right now!" She pulled Rolle closer, soothing him with her hands. "Edward, you know if anyone else dies, it's Carlisle who will suffer."

Unaware of the deal Carlisle struck with Aro, Rolle panicked. "No, no, no, no, no, no..." Rolle began to whimper. He didn't know if he could stop himself from harming anyone else and keep Carlisle safe. Edward was yelling at them. With half of the room envisioning Rolle's death, it was Bella's fear for Edward that drowned out all other reactions.

"Aro is contemplating how to maintain power through this crisis," Edward explained, having no compunction about sharing Aro's thoughts with the room. "I only want to discuss options with him... options that he may want consider privately with a rationale that the Guard is not capable of understanding at this moment." Edward spun back to Aro. "We all know that the Volturi serve a greater purpose in our world. You take responsibility for the behavior and action of others and keep the law. No one else has ever come forward to take up that burden, not even the Romanians. No one here disputes the need for your role in our society, least of all Carlisle or myself. But right now, at this moment, how you proceed has to be about more than simple vendetta. There is more at stake here than our lives."

_What did you hear? _ Aro thought to Edward.

Edward's brows went up sharply and he glanced purposefully around the room then pointedly again at Aro, trying to convey the urgency that they speak alone.

Carlisle stood, keeping one hand on Rolle's shoulder. "At the very least, can we agree there are many questions that need to be answered? About your fears toward us, as well as Rolle's gifts and his motivations?" Carlisle asked.

"What of _your_ motivations?" Felix asked.

"_He_ got Aro and the others out of the room. _I_ got _you_ out of the room," Edward reminded him. "And you!" he said to Marcus. "I think _our_ motivations are clear. If we truly wanted the Volturi to fall, we would have left you all behind and saved ourselves."

"Aro, Marcus, please," Carlisle said again. "We all have questions and concerns. I'm only asking that we do not act rashly in the wake of so much emotional trauma."

"And how do you propose we get the answer to these questions?" Aro asked. "It feels rather like a, how do they say it now... a_ Mexican Standoff_ with the odds, admittedly, greatly in your favor." His eyes rested on the assassin.

"It's not his fault," Esme argued. "It's all of _you_ doing this to him!"

"You can't know that for certain," Aro stated coldly.

"Edward can know for certain," she persisted.

"And what assurances can Edward give us that we can know are not colored by his own desperate need to protect his wife?" Aro shot back again. "I'm sorry, madam, but considering _we_ are the injured party in this matter, I'll keep my own counsel."

"What if you could know for sure?" Bella asked quietly. When all eyes turned to her, her confidence waned.

Edward pulled her close. "What do you mean, love? How?"

Bella glanced between Aro, Carlisle and Edward. "You can't read Rolle unless he's calm, but he can't calm down in a room full of people thinking about killing us. Maybe my shield can act as a barrier."

"What do you propose?" Aro said, obviously curious about the idea.

"Well, it seems like being around Carlisle and Esme has a calming effect on him. What if I tried to put my shield around them. Maybe he can calm down enough that you could read him."

"I would have to touch him," Aro pointed out. His cold tone implied he would not be going near Rolle.

"Then read him through Edward," she said quickly, desperate to put the elder at ease so they could all escape this room.

Aro and Edward regarded each other, looking for the other's reaction to Bella's suggestion. Neither appeared opposed to it, but both were surprised when Bella turned to Rolle.

"Can we try?" she asked him. "Rolle?" she prompted when he did not respond.

Bella moved away from Edward, pausing when his clutching hands would not release her. She could see the reluctance in his eyes and smoothed her hand against his cheek to reassure him. _I have to try. I think if he knows what we're trying to do, he can find the control to not hurt anyone else._

Edward's eyes tightened, showing his reluctance. Bella didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking.

_He won't hurt me,_ Bella insisted. _He couldn't hurt me._

Worry and pain crossed his face. It was Esme's knowledge that Rolle had tried to kill himself instead of hurting her or Carlisle that convinced Edward that Bella could be right. "Stay with me," he told her, touching his temple. As he released her fingers, the spark of electricity between them seemed to arc across the slowly increasing distance, connecting them like a gossamer fiber.

Bella knelt before Rolle and rested her hands on his knees. "Rolle?"

He folded forward more and rested his forehead on the back of her fingers before nodding.

Aro motioned the Guard back with his hand and stepped next to Edward. Carlisle and Esme sat on either side of Rolle.

The moment Bella's shield engulfed Rolle, he sat up with a gasp of surprise. His silver eyes bore into hers with a clarity she had never seen from him before. Bella took a deep breath and struggled with her fear of losing control of her gift. After so many years, bringing Edward into her shield was effortless, but pushing it out to others... As she closed her eyes and concentrated on manipulating the shield to include Carlisle and Esme, Rolle blinked rapidly and turned confused eyes first to the left as Esme gave him a reassuring smile, then to the right as Carlisle nodded.

Edward turned to face Aro and held up his hand, knowing he had to make a show of trust.

As Aro took Edward's arm, he instantly realized the drawback of Edward's gift. He had to read Rolle's mind as Edward did—as direct thoughts Rolle was thinking at that moment. While Aro conceded that it was useful to not need physical contact, he found Edward's gift to be instantly restricting. He was so used to receiving every thought in an instant, he suddenly felt like he was being given a novel with a single word on each page, and even then he was required to prompt each word to appear on the page.

"How did you meet Edward?"

The first information Aro tried to focus on was every interaction Edward and Rolle had ever had, however, the thoughts of everyone else in the room that Edward could hear was distracting. While Aro had perfected his gift of receiving a lifetime of information instantaneously, he had never needed to sort through the vast amount of voices that Edward's gift had demanded. Aro hesitated in speaking this problem out loud, not willing to show any more weakness to the Guards and wishing now he could have taken the Cullens up on their offer to do this in private.

Edward heard Aro's dilemma and said softly, "Bella, do you think you can extend your shield around my mind as well?" He caught Aro's eyes as he added in a lie, "So I can hear Rolle better?"

A wisp of gratitude colored Aro's thoughts as the telepaths spoke in the privacy of their minds.

Bella hesitated. "You can't be afraid for me," she said to Edward. "I don't know if Rolle can stay calm if he senses your fear for me."

"We have a truce until midnight," Aro volunteered, too curious to let this opportunity slip by. "Rolle, you have my word that no one will do any harm within these walls," and quickly appended, "nor to Carlisle's family abroad."

Carlisle bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Edward?" Aro said. _My word,_ he added privately.

When Edward nodded, Bella took a deep breath and focused her energy, reaching for Edward's familiar mind with her own and feeling relief when he was securely within her shield.

As Rolle responded to the verbal prompts from Aro, the elder saw Edward listening to Rolle play in Chicago the first time they met. He saw their mutual understanding as they both realized what the other was, and the first tentative attempts at conversation as the spoke about the music of the blues festival. He saw their friendship progress and expand to include all the members of Edward's family. More importantly Aro relived the conversation between Edward and Rolle when Edward first cautiously spoke about the rumors of an assassin that sprung up after the genocide in Romania, and Rolle's stoic yet shameful admission that he was, indeed, that same vampire. Aro watched Rolle meet Bella for the first time and how it had affected him. The broken links of Rolle's mind substituted Bella for Rolle's own lost love, though the chain of obligation Rolle felt for Bella's safety was misshapen and wrapped around his friendship for Edward.

Rolle's focus was completely on Bella as he answered Aro's questions. Esme smoothed Rolle's hair from his forehead, holding his hand sandwiched between her own and Carlisle's. She caught Carlisle staring at her over their clasped hands. The adoration he felt for her eclipsed everything else. Even covered in dust and grime, he was still the most handsome man she had ever met, but it was his eyes that held his true beauty and for the first time in a long time, they were clear of sadness and doubts.

In order to be placated, Aro demanded to know about what happened in Romania. He ignored Edward's flinch as Rolle's mind scrolled through the events, and vague memories of pain and floating endlessly on ocean currents, until the world came back into some semblance of itself. The memories of the Romanians, themselves, connected like puzzle pieces in Edward's mind, meshing with Rolle's own recollections of those events. The prelude to the massive attack on Rolle now began with Rolle's memory of sitting forlorn under an ancient oak tree, mindlessly stroking the thick spongy bark of the tree as if it were a beloved pet, and then Rolle being suddenly attacked by several dozen vampires. Aro found the true source of Rolle's anger towards the ancient ones in that attack. Through Rolle's memories and through his eyes, he saw the old vampires standing on a far-away hilltop, watching the destruction from a safe distance away as they sacrificed their kinsmen. With his unique cognitive mimicking ability, Rolle knew the attack was merely another test by the Romanians to determine the scope of his destructive power. It was this fact alone that put Aro's mind at ease that there was no conspiracy at work here.

While Edward boiled once again with anger for what Rolle had gone through, Aro could appreciate the Romanians for their thoroughness in exploring the weapon they had unwittingly found. He would have done the same himself given the circumstances.

Edward scowled at Aro for his observation.

_As you pointed out earlier, my concerns must go far beyond those of simple vendetta, _Aro shared with Edward._ There is merit in the idea of keeping your friend alive, especially in light of the destruction he has caused, but only if he would agree with your assessment of our value to our world, don't you think?_

Out loud, Aro stuck on the topic that most concerned him. "You deceived me." He directed the statement to Rolle.

Out loud, Rolle answered. "Yes."

The admission was followed by broken images of Gillian and her death, and the desolation Rolle felt as her life slipped from his fingertips. The drama was all too familiar to Aro, having experienced it time and again from Marcus.

"You would do so again," Aro stated as if it were a fact.

"Yes." Rolle raised his eyes without shame. "If it kept history from repeating itself. No one-" He stopped with a gasp and looked at his sire. Marcus watched and listened with blank eyes. "_No one_ should ever have love ripped away like that. It's supposed to grow, and grow old, together."

"Do you know what our role is here?" Aro pressed. When Rolle did not reply, he continued. "I told you. We have only one rule: Protect the secret. Humans cannot know of our existence. If they were to learn of us, we would all be at risk. We stop those of us who ignore this rule and risk us all. You, better than any, know that we have weaknesses and immortality is not as literal as the word may sound. But you have weakened us today."

Aro heard Rolle's reaction to this revelation through Edward. Rolle's compulsion to protect love had been woven into his immortal fiber from the very moment Marcus turned him. The obsession drove him to risk everything: the Cullen's favor, his friendship with Edward, music... The boy could not fight this compulsion any more than he could suddenly turn himself into a bird. Never in all of his plans or drive to accomplish that end had it ever occurred to him that he would weaken the Volturi.

The pieces fell together in Aro's mind then, and as they did, Edward tried to wrench his arm from Aro's grasp. The steel fingers dug into Edward's hard flesh, refusing to let him go.

"Don't!" The word growled from between Edward's lips.

"_You_ put Bella at risk," Aro spat at Rolle. "You were never the one to protect her. _We_ were. You murdered the very people who were supposed to protect her."

Rolle jumped to his feet at this accusation. "I know what I am!" he shouted.

"Do you?" Aro shot back, just as loud. He yanked on Edward's arm as he stepped forward, moving Edward behind him. "What will be your penance for what you've done this time?" he shouted.

"Aro!" Edward warned, trying to keep the pain off his face as the vice-like grip tightened.

_Your turn to trust me,_ Aro snapped at Edward in his mind. _Be still and accept this or I'll not be able to let Carlisle leave here alive. Rolle has to accept his fate and his responsibility to us now._

Edward's expression turned to one of surprise.

"What do you mean?" Rolle asked, stunned and flailing for direction without the use of his gift to understand Aro's intentions.

"You didn't think I could just let this all go, did you? Five thousand years of knowledge and power have been stolen from me and you must make things right again. You _have_ to fill the hole you have left in our defenses! You've left us all exposed with your treachery. Bella. Edward. Carlisle. Me! All of us! This is _your_ doing."

"No!" Carlisle insisted, standing at Rolle's side. "Aro, no. Rolle is not some weapon for you to play with."

"That's exactly what he is," Aro disagreed.

"He's a being of free will!" Carlisle said sharply. "He's not the spoils of a battle to be used like slave."

"Then tell me how we will protect our society from the werewolves? Who will help us when covens decide to create immortal children? Who will intervene when rogues create armies of newborns? Where will we turn if the billions of humans learn of us and hunt us down? You, yourselves have relied on the Volturi to address such ends! You were hunted by your own father. Your coven was attacked by newborns. How would you have us rebuild after what has happened here today!" Aro shouted.

"Rolle is not-" Carlisle continued to argue.

"I'll do it," came the soft voice of the assassin at the same time.

Carlisle spun to face Rolle. "What? No. No! Rolle, not like this. You can't-"

"I can't be the reason any more people get hurt," Rolle implored. His eyes were filled with sad regret, his voice breaking as he spoke. "I made a promise, Carlisle. If this is what I have to do to keep that promise..."

Aro stared in amazement at Rolle's proclamation. As Edward heard Aro's surprise, he, too, realized the importance of Rolle's sentiment. Having a better understanding of the trauma of Rolle's gift, his words held meaning that they could only now appreciate. Within the protective walls of Bella's shield, Rolle could express his own free will, even if it was contradictory to what Carlisle wanted for him.

"I know what I am," Rolle said with a hard swallow. "I'll stay." His words came out softer and softer. "I'll be a gun."

The words were barely past Rolle's lips when all four of the Cullen's phones chimed with their individual text alerts.

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **Love and thanks to my beloved and loving peanut gallery: **Irishgirl**, **Songster**, **Philadelphic **and **Emmanuelle Nathan**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

I want to give my readers my deepest apologies for the delay regarding this chapter. I can't say that I'll be back on my weekly or even a bi-weekly posting schedule, but I **can** say that I have about 3-5 chapters left, so YAY! Things are wrapping up. There's still some weighty conversations that need to happen, just to tie up concerns and loose-ends.

You'll be happy to know I vetoed myself when it came to this chapter's cliffie ending, so what happens next will be immediately explained in chapter 18. Be sure to check out my blog for teasers!

The Stygian Realm  
The Myth of Orpheus  
http:/www(dot)renaissanceastrology(dot)com/orpheushymns(dot)html


	18. Chapter 18 to cross the River Styx

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to me, myself and I. But **_**I**_** gets all the credit. **_**Me**_** is cash only. **_**Myself**_** takes the blame.**

_**This chapter is being posted in honor of the public release of "Twilight, Eclipse" tonight at midnight! ENJOY THE SHOW!**_

I need to give you an **extra A/N** for this chapter. You see, it was originally over 8,000 words, but Irishgirl pointed out that there's a lot of serious discussion going on, and to keep everything in one chapter might feel overwhelming. She suggested that I cut this chapter in half and move the other "big discussion" into 19. After bouncing it around, and already wandering under a cloud of being "too heavy with details" and "to cerebral", I thought it would be a good idea take this advice. So chapter 19 will be coming soon, and the chapter I've been working on (formerly known as 19) will be chapter 20 instead.

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

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**Chapter 18: ****to cross the River Styx**

Alec couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Aro's mouth. He had to be misunderstanding his master. They all had the right to their anger, but it sounded like Aro was demanding that this butcher join the Volturi to make amends for the damage he had inflicted on the Guard. His sister was merely _damage_ to the Guard?

He grief overwhelmed him again. No, Jane was more than merely collateral damage. She was more than his sister. She was his friend and his protector. She had always used herself to shield him from harm: first from their abusive father, then from the cruel hands of the church, and finally from the rage of the mob on their way to the pyre, until at last she delivered him into this eternal life with her, with Aro.

Alec focused on the room again, quelling the pain of his loss.

Carlisle was defending the assassin. Alec looked between him and Aro watching their verbal debate bounce back and forth and grow more heated. Rolle's words joined the conflict and a smug expression slid over Aro's face. What had Rolle said? What did it mean?

Why did Aro look pleased? Why did Rolle looked resigned? Were the Cullen's eyes filled with... _sorrow_?

None of the Cullens had time to see the message from Alice that had suddenly appeared on their phones.

In a snap, the meaning was clear to him. Rolle had just agreed to join the Volturi. Alec's murderous sneer was the only sign of the rage and betrayal that raced across his body as his mind exploded in resentment. He jumped at Rolle in a bitter tantrum, refusing to let his sister's murderer slide effortlessly into her seat.

The sudden motion drew Rolle's eyes up as Alec leapt into the air. "No!" he barked, throwing himself in front of Bella. Her concentration broke and her shield fell. A torrent of input hit Rolle and Edward's minds and it was instantly obvious that Alec's attack was meant for Rolle.

The silent attack was over before it began. Marcus' hand snapped out like a viper, catching Alec in midair by his foot, and threw him down to the ground. Edward had not heard Alec's thoughts. Rolle had not sensed his intentions. Bella's shield had prevented anyone from any forewarning of Alec's state of mind. Only Marcus was unaffected. He had seen the snapping red around Alec expand like a fireball. He was the only one prepared to react.

Marcus held Alec down by his throat and Alec's eyes were surprised to see malevolence in Marcus' normally expressionless face.

"You will _not_ disobey us," he said in a low and dangerous voice. Marcus lifted Alec by the neck and set him on his feet, summoning Chelsea with his eyes to take the youth away. Marcus met her eyes as he said, "See to it." It was understood that she would use her unique gift to control Alec's loyalty and obedience.

Aro watched the scene with a new sense of pride in his brother.

Outside of Bella's shield, Rolle was overwhelmed with Edward's protective anxiety over Bella. Despite the fact that he could see she was all right, he needed her physically close and Rolle passed Bella into her husband's protective arms. He positioned himself in front of all four of the Cullens like a bodyguard.

"Are you all right?" Edward said softly, his voice was tight with worry. Bella nodded wordlessly. Edward's hands pulled her close even as they smoothed over her body searching for any injury.

Esme wrapped her arms around both of them. Edward wasn't the only one who needed to be calmed with physical contact. Carlisle moved closer as well, putting one hand low on his wife's back, and the other on Bella's shoulder. Esme raised her eyes to his in silent communication.

When Marcus turned back and saw Aro's open approval, he bowed his head and resumed his position at Aro's side. As he turned and faced the others, he realized Rolle was staring at him.

Marcus didn't know why the intense look on Rolle's face felt like a question, but he felt the need to explain. "Aro gave his word that no one would be hurt."

Rolle blinked but his peculiar expression did not change.

"Thank you, Marcus." Carlisle's voice was low and thick as he looked between Marcus and Rolle.

"Yes, thank you, Marcus," Aro repeated, scanning the faces of the Cullens. "Bella, if you would be so kind, could you please shield Rolle again," he said without explanation.

Bella looked questioningly to Edward, but did not shield Rolle until Edward nodded, trusting that he would know if Aro's intentions were safe for all of them.

Aro continued. "While I appreciate your position on this matter, Carlisle, it seems more information is required now."

"What do you mean?" Esme said, shaking her head. "Haven't we all been through enough?"

"He means that we've learned something new about Rolle's gift," Edward said as he met Carlisle's questioning gaze.

"What?" Bella asked, leaning back from Edward to see his face.

Aro moved to stand beside Carlisle as he appraised Rolle again. "While I don't agree with the Romanian's methods," he began earnestly, "I do understand the need to learn as much as we can about Rolle's abilities, if only for his _own_ edification so he can begin to learn why control will be so important."

"What did you see?" Carlisle asked, looking between Aro and Edward.

Aro frowned as he openly evaluated Rolle's cautious and confused expression. The rumbling was still present, though low and distant. He paused, not knowing if what he wanted to say would be a catalyst to upsetting Rolle further, and with so few of his Guard left he realized there was only one person in the room who could answer Carlisle's question without further inciting the unstable assassin.

Edward waited to see if Aro would answer Carlisle, but instead Aro directed his thoughts to Edward. _Rolle will take this better from someone he knows and trusts._

Sighing, he looked at Carlisle and said, "Rolle doesn't seem to have his own free will." His voice was almost apologetic as he said to his friend, "Because you have no control over your mind, you cannot distinguish between your own will and that of the people around you."

The concept was almost too big to understand and the room was silent as they all considered different implications of this problem. Esme thought of Carlisle, and Rolle's attempt to kill himself moments ago during his despair. Edward thought of murderers, and their violently flailing rage. Carlisle thought of the desperation of the families of patients, and the lengths they would go to in order to save the lives of their loved ones. Bella considered the humans they interacted with on a daily basis and their wildly fluctuating drives: family, work, status, the need to impress others... She could easily recall that time from her own mortal life. Half the time, people didn't even know why they did what they did, reacting on pure emotional responses that often made them act irrationally.

Rolle stood in the midst of the silence questioning everything he had ever done, every reason and every motivation. "But... But I- I was in the ocean when I came to your house, knowing I needed to protect your Bella. Was that... What was that, then?"

The ever-present rumble increased with his agitation.

"I think it was real," Aro said quickly to placate the boy. "That was you. I won't be evasive with you, but we need to know for sure. I'd like to ask you one more question, if I may. I want to know more about the night you first met Bella." He looked quickly at Edward and held up his hand.

Edward came forward and put his hand in Aro's as Rolle thought about that night. Aro winced instantly at the fragments of Rolle's mind, releasing Edward's hand as if he'd been burnt. Bella took a long slow breath and brought Rolle and Edward into her shield again.

Esme went to Rolle's side and took his hand in both of hers, smiling encouragement to help him. "You played for us that night. All of us."

Rolle blinked and nodded slowly as a faint smile played across his lips. "Bella wanted a CD so she could hear the songs again." His voice was soft and unsure.

As Esme and Rolle spoke, Edward nodded to Aro. The elder placed his hand on Edward's arm again, hearing the entire evening play out in a moment, and knew his suspicions were correct. Rolle could find peace and express his own free will when he was around the Cullens. The decisions he had made about manipulating Marcus into bringing him here to Italy had been all his own and not influenced by anyone else. The songs Rolle had created and sung that night were more proof that the only goal Carlisle's coven had was to live quietly with their mates, dabbling in the human world to keep their humanity.

Edward felt enormous relief as he heard Aro's assessment. More importantly, Edward heard Aro sorting options in his head of how to keep Rolle alive and useful. Aro did not let go of Edward's arm, wanting to know _his_ reactions to this new tactic, and did not try to obscure his thoughts as he began to envision Edward and Bella's part in keeping Rolle's skill viable.

_I won't lie to you, my friend. He is far too valuable to destroy now that we are weakened, but he's no good to me if I can't use his skills. You say you understand and value the role of the Volturi, then you will help me convince him that it will be his duty to help us keep the peace in times of need._

_But he can't remain in Italy, _Edward insisted. _He would need to be kept within a shield all the time._

_What makes you think he could be kept contained anywhere else? _Aro said. _Your Bella can't keep him shielded all the time. She's too young and is still learning to control her own gift._

_If he comes back with us, he wouldn't need to be kept within a shield all the time," _Edward pointed out.

Carlisle and Bella watched the unspoken debate going on between Edward and Aro, uncomfortable with being left out, but also afraid of Rolle's reactions if he were aware of the nature of their conversation. When Aro's expression turned dark, Bella looked worriedly at Carlisle, who cautioned her to remain silent with a subtle shake of his head.

_You know he's calm and safe with us_, Edward pressed. _If Rolle stayed with us, I will be able to hear the minds of anyone that comes near him that could trigger his loss of will, and Bella would only have to shield him from that influence when necessary._

Aro's eyes lit up with the possibility. _Which means you would both need to come with him when I needed him. _The implications were clear. All three of them would be, by default, Volturi in practice if not by name.

This time it was Edward's expression that tensed with his immediate refusal.

Aro's expression changed to a sneer. _Hypocrisy suits you too well, my young friend. Your stubbornness and double standards, where your wife is concerned, will be your ultimate destruction. Do not presume my favor is indefinite, and do not abuse my good will._

The muscles in Edward's jaw tensed and he felt Bella's mind touch his as she realized his anger. _Don't let him get to you, Edward. Whatever he's thinking, just let it go for now until we can all talk._

As Bella's words appeared in Edward's mind, a snide smile appeared on Aro's face. _Beautiful, talented _and_ intelligent._

Edward looked at Carlisle, meeting his eyes and hearing his unspoken questions and worries. He looked at his wife and his eyes softened at her trusting and loving expression, almost fidgeting in her need to touch him.

He sighed heavily through his nose, forcing himself to be calm. _I won't answer for them,_ Edward thought at last. "We'll discuss it."

"Of course," Aro readily agreed. "I'll take you to the library."

The sudden turn of circumstances gave way to a new feeling of dread in Edward.

~•~

When they were finally alone in the nearly silent castle, each of them collapsed into the desperate arms of their mates, holding each other and whispering words of love and relief. Rolle's gaze swung like a pendulum from the floor to the frightened couples as he skirted silently along the wall and out of their way. As much as he wanted to disappear into the ocean for the rest of time, he needed the answers that Carlisle seemed to have. He couldn't stop himself from looking at them, basking in their nearness and their love for each other.

A sob caught in Carlisle's throat as he crushed Esme to his chest. "What were you thinking?" he whispered in torment.

"I wasn't thinking," Esme apologized. "I just couldn't let him kill himself."

He held her face in his hands as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'd be lost without you." She knew this, but he felt compelled to say the words, knowing she had been dealing with the same fears about him of late.

"I know. I'm sorry." She kissed him, wrapping him in her arms a moment before she remembered the others. "I have to call and let them know we're okay for now."

"Alice will know," Carlisle said.

"I know," Esme fussed, dialing the phone, "but it's not the same as hearing our voices."

As Esme called home, Bella smoothed her hands over Edward's neck, kneading the back of his neck to ease the tension there. She grew more and more anxious by the dark look his eyes. "What did he say?"

He sighed and pulled her to him, putting his hand on the back of her head to tuck her against his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and whispered, "Come to me," in her hair. Bella held him tight as she pressed her shield back to give him access to her thoughts. He moaned quietly and the tension from his expression slackened.

_I'm here,_ she assured him. _I'm always here. _She felt him nod.

Edward let himself sink into her overwhelming relief that they were all safe. If he concentrated all his awareness on her, he could almost pretend that her thoughts were his own—almost. He wished he could simply crawl into her mind and live there in peace. Could there be a bubble of safety for immortals? Today, more than any other in the history of their kind, proved that immortality was almost as fragile as humanity. Nothing was _truly_ permanent. The shiver ran through him and his arms tightened around Bella.

As Carlisle and Esme's relief tickled around the edges of his mind, he let his focus include them as well, listening as Esme spoke on the phone and promised Rose they would all be home soon. From the calm sanctuary of Bella's arms, Edward spent the next ten minutes telling them everything he and Aro and heard. He explained how Aro had learned earlier how easily Rolle was swayed and noticed it immediately when Rolle stood up to Carlisle, firmly demonstrating his own will.

Rolle listened to all of this as if they were talking about someone else. His face was passive though his mind was racing, torn between guilt and anger and self-loathing. He remained across the room from them, feeling separated from them. He would not let himself think of Rachel and what his lack of self-will meant between them. He remembered the teen arguing with his mother, the couple making out in the row behind him, and Rachel's sidelong glances. He had been angry at Marcus for implying Rachel was merely a meal... or had he? Was it the arguing teenager? And his sudden inexplicable need to connect with someone—was his feelings reciprocal, or were they merely hers? How could he know? Rolle tried to focus on what Edward was saying, wanting to ignore the anxiety he was already battling.

"He feels that allowing us to leave and letting Rolle survive will send the wrong message to the remaining Guard," Edward said.

"So he needs to find a reason to express his control of his new _weapon_," Esme sneered. She looked across the room at Rolle, conveying with her expression that she was sorry it had come to this.

Carlisle shook his head. "Aro is far more practical than that, I'm afraid. He's absolutely right. He needs Rolle now. Before, he had time to possibly ease Rolle into the ranks, but now they are weak. If there was another war in the south, or if a coven took it upon themselves to create forbidden children, or if the werewolves attack from Siberia, there would be no one strong enough or organized enough to stop it."

"But in order for Rolle to have his own will," Edward said at last, "he would need to be in the company of a vampire who is a shield."

Everyone looked at Bella, but it was Rolle who reacted.

"No! No, I... I can't... I'll withdraw my offer! I can't let you!" His tone was feverish with anxiety.

Carlisle held up his hand. "Rolle, please, trust me, I would never agree to anything that would put Edward or Bella at risk."

Rolle's face crumpled. He hung his head, shaking it from side to side. "No, you wouldn't," he choked. "That's my job." His brittle voice failed as he spoke, the words nothing more than bubbles of sound as the truth of the danger he put them all in consumed him.

Edward went to Rolle and put his hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. "You had no idea it would turn out this way, and I understand why you did all of this. For that alone, I will always be grateful to you. You've always been a friend to me, but as a friend, I have to say... I've wanted to knock your head off a few times today."

Rolle's watery chuckle was the desired effect and Edward pulled him into an embrace. Edward gave Rolle a moment to compose himself. "Please don't help me anymore," Edward said, making Rolle laugh again.

"I'm so sorry," Rolle said. "I've just made everything worse."

"No," Carlisle assured him gently. "Not worse. Perhaps a little more complicated, but not worse."

Rolle shook his head, not believing Carlisle. "You're just being kind."

"I'm not lying to you, Rolle," Carlisle maintained. "Until I walked into that chamber, I had no idea that Caius had so much animosity towards us. To accuse me of leaving my position at the hospital so I could use a teaching position to search for gifted humans, to indoctrinate them as vampires into our lifestyle? He blatantly accused us of intending to build an army."

"Of all the preposterous..." Esme trailed off, fuming.

"I'm glad we at least brought the argument to them, instead of being blindsided with it," Carlisle agreed. "I _am_ surprised, however, that Aro allowed all of this to escalate simply because Bella joined our family."

"If anyone is to blame," Esme said, "it's Aro."

"No," Rolle said. When all four of them looked at him surprise, Rolle backpedaled. "Well, maybe, but he only wanted your family looked into, not acted against. He was less concerned about Caius, after the fact, than he was Demetri. "

"What?" Edward asked, surprised. "How do you know that?" At Rolle's wry expression, Edward rephrased his question. "Why would he be less concerned about a vampire as powerful as Caius, than Demetri."

Rolle shrugged apologetically. "Because Caius' only power was as an orator. When he spoke, he was a great debater: logical, vicious and passionate. Demetri acted on what Caius had been talking about. Aro has always known he could control Caius, but Demetri acted on his own, uncontrolled and unguided. It's not the first time there's been a grab for power here, but it was the first time it was one of the Guard."

The four Cullens stared at Rolle in shock, both because of his lucid statement and what he knew about the Volturi.

Their frank appraisal of him, made Rolle retreat a step. "What?"

Carlisle took a deep breath and shook his head as if to clear it. "Rolle, we _really_ need to sit down and talk about your abilities."

Rolle's head bowed as if he'd done something wrong. Some part of him knew this was the crux of the problem. He put them all in danger because he did not understand his own weaknesses and shortcomings, nor did he fully understand the consequences. Talking about it, though, made it worse because he had to take ownership of it, even though he didn't understand any of it, or even what 'it' was.

Carlisle motioned Rolle to join them around one of the ancient study tables. As Rolle sat beside Carlisle, Edward held a chair out for Bella and stood behind her with his hand resting on the back of her neck.

Carlisle regarded Rolle a moment noting the slump of his shoulders and lowered eyes. For a moment, he felt as though he were catching sight of himself in a mirror, but pushed the thought aside in order to help Rolle understand himself. The irony was not lost on Carlisle, when he had been feeling just as dejected and directionless as this man did. Some things could be fixed, though, and he knew he could help Rolle see that.

"I know you've never been told this," Carlisle began, "because of the circumstances of your change. When we are changed, we are essentially frozen in the state we existed as mortals." Carlisle paused to watch Rolle's reaction. "Rolle," he began again, gently, "you were trapped in your grief after Gillian died."

Rolle looked up, his eyes wide and as he considered Carlisle's words his eyes went unfocused, panting almost in fright as realization overwhelmed him. The rumble became more prominent.

"I can't hear him," Edward said quickly. "Carlisle?"

Bella jumped up and knelt beside Rolle taking his face in her hands, ignoring Edward's frantically grasping hands behind her. "Look at me! Look at me!" she insisted, pulling Rolle's face around to face hers. "Stop!"

Rolle froze in her hands, looking back at her. She could see he was filled with panic. "Tell me what you're thinking." When he didn't answer, she pressed him again. "Rolle, tell me." She saw his wild panic change into fear and regret. It was his regret that drove it home to her. "What happened after Gillian died?" she asked quietly.

Rolle looked at her, his eyes sliding away to Carlisle's, then back to Bella. "I hunted for the man who killed her," he said in a brittle voice.

Bella blinked in confusion. She knew this part of the story. He had killed Gillian's murder.

"I..." Rolle stopped and swallowed hard. "I-I hunted him... for a long time. I didn't eat. Didn't sleep. I... did..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Months. I did... things..." He stopped again, and simply added, "Bad," as a way of summing up everything he could not say.

He looked sidelong at Carlisle, "I was frozen that way?"

"Oh, Rolle," Carlisle sighed.

"No," Esme answered firmly. "That's not what Carlisle means." She stood up and sat on the arm of Rolle's chair, putting her arm over his shoulder. "You had a nervous breakdown, that's all. That's what Carlisle means, dear. Losing Gillian like that broke you, and you were frozen in that broken state. Not bad. You could never be bad. You have to trust me. I know."

Rolle looked up at her, and Esme added, "I know because that's how I was when I was changed. I was broken just like that."

Bella reached out and took Esme's hand, squeezing it.

"You said you know why Gillian isn't here," Rolle said. "I didn't get last rites... when I... _died_?" he added, unsure what to call it now. "So I didn't go to hell?"

Carlisle shook his head. "I'm sure it feels like hell to you, but no, this isn't hell." He wasn't sure he could convince Rolle, but there were other things to teach him that were more important. "I think Marcus was right about your abilities. I think you had an inherent ability to find people, but you only discovered it yourself in the worst possible way. Changing you during that time has probably made your own thoughts and your gift indistinguishable from each other, but we won't know that for sure until we can see if you have the power to control it."

"Do you think I can?" Rolle asked hopefully.

"I honestly don't know. I'm sorry." Carlisle felt himself settle back into the role of doctor, helping a patient deal with bad news.

Esme watched her husband. His compassion for others was unchanged, despite his own doubts. He was a natural healer, be it body or soul that needed care. He could not fight his nature, and watching him with Rolle now made her realize that part of the problem was that Carlisle had been denying himself this outlet. He was, however, oblivious to his wife's silent scrutiny as he focused only on Rolle.

"Right now, it appears that you can't distinguish what you know from what you 'absorb' from others when you are tracking them, but that could be simply that you didn't know you had to look for a difference. You said you were able to find people you've never met before?"

Rolle nodded. "There were others. I never met them, but I found them."

Carlisle nodded, thinking. "We'll just have to have a bit of patience then. Over time, and with practice, maybe we'll begin to unravel that. Now as to your other power."

Rolle looked uncomfortable again, knowing he had put his friends through pain.

"Can you tell me what you know?" Carlisle inquired. "You said it was like waves?"

Rolle nodded slowly with a shrug. "There are times I can see it. Like during the rain in the hurricane?" he said, looking at Edward. "And today, as the dust came down."

"Do you have any control over it?" Carlisle asked, moving to the edge of his seat and resting his elbows on his knees.

"If I can see it, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"It bounces off the walls, and the waves collide with each other. If I move, they move. Sometimes I can move to a place where the bounces hit others and they just cancel each other."

Edward folded his arms over his chest. "Remind me to pull out some books about the physics of sound when we get home."

Carlisle ignored him. "Can you make it start or stop?"

Rolle became skittish and nervous, looking at all of them, but never meeting their eyes. "I guess. I don't know."

"Rolle," Bella said, putting her hand on the back of his.

Rolle looked at her chin.

"We're not mad at you," she assured him.

"Not at the moment," Edward teased, making Bella and Esme glare over their shoulders at him. "Joke!"

Bella rolled her eyes and sighed, turning back to Rolle. "You used it to fight Demetri, didn't you?"

"Yes. I didn't want to kill him, but I didn't have time. You guys were on the ridge, and Marcus was going to the house."

Bella recalled the moment when they looked over the cliff's edge and saw Rolle hit Demetri in the chest, sending a cloud of dust into the rain-soaked sky. They lost sight of him when suddenly Alice had a vision of Rolle attacking Carlisle in front of Marcus. Edward was the only one who saw what Alice did, and they raced back to the house.

"Emmett was unconscious," Carlisle reminded him. "Was that you? Did you do that to him?"

Rolle nodded. "To keep him out of the fight, so he wouldn't get hurt worse. I needed to scare you enough to fool Marcus, but I knew Emmett wouldn't stop."

"And _you_ did that to him? Do you know how?" Carlisle asked, with a glimpse of excitement like his old self when discovering something new and hid his disappointment when Rolle shook his head.

Edward heard Carlisle's mind spinning away at this new problem and felt a knot of tension ease concerning his father. To see him curious about something new and challenging was a monumental shift that was heartening to see.

"Rolle," Edward said, to get his attention. His tone wasn't joking when he asked, "When you broke away from Vladimir...?" he asked, trailing off without really asking his question in order to assess Rolle's willingness to talk about his encounter with the Romanians.

"That's never happened again since that day," Rolle offered easily. "It's never been so focused like that."

"You mean that it affected only his arm?" Carlisle wanted to know. Rolle nodded. "Maybe that was just a glimpse into the level of control over your power that you're capable of then."

Rolle shrugged, simply saying, "Okay," because it felt like he had to respond.

They fell silent as they considered what they had learned, wondering about the implications and the scope of the task that Aro was probably going to force on them.

Almost on cue, Rolle responded to the direction of their thoughts. "I can't to drag you into this."

"I don't think that's a decision you'll have any control over," Edward said. "Aro thinks you're too unstable to exist, but he also needs your abilities more than he did before."

"What do you mean?"

"He may need you to help keep the peace and keep the secret of our existence," Carlisle answered.

"But only in extreme situations," Edward added. "He knows it's not safe for you to remain here, and he's always trusted Carlisle, so he may let you stay with us if we can keep you safe from others."

Rolle looked at each of them in turn, surprised. "You can do that?"

Bella laughed. "Rolle, you always find us when you're really upset. I think you _need_ to be around us to help you find your way back to being calm."

Rolle absorbed this information and a wry smile tugged at his lips. "You mean, it's not just because I like you guys?"

The tension in the room broke a little more and everyone chuckled.

"It might be enough that you stay with us," Edward said. "Between myself and Alice, we should be able to know who may have strong enough thoughts that could influence you, and Bella could shield you from them while they are near."

"I'm more than a little surprised Aro is willing to consider this," Esme opined. "He seems to enjoy control too much to allow it."

Rolle shrugged lightly. "He's just scared."

Everyone looked at him again, surprised by his remark.

Rolle looked startled back at them. "What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Aro is afraid?" Bella asked in disbelief.

"He's not afraid of _us_, he's just afraid of what could be lost," Rolle explained.

"What would be lost?" Carlisle asked.

Rolle looked surprised that Carlisle asked. "Him. Himself. His knowledge. Everything." As the silence stretched on, he added, "He's been alive for three thousand years. He's brilliant, reads everything, and if that wasn't enough, he can learn everything anyone he touches has ever learned." Rolle looked at Esme. "Think about it... three thousand years... and even if he only fed once a day, that's over a million people, not counting those he intentionally touches just to know what they know." Rolle ran his hand over the top of his head. "He's like a living version of the Library of Alexandria, but older. I think it's just convenient for him now to keep the Guard for his own protection as well as keeping the law." Lost in his thoughts now, Rolle added, "I guess, in a way, keeping the secret helps keep him safe, too."

"Hmm." Carlisle put his fingers to his lips in thought. "I think Aro would be better served having you with us for many reasons." Rolle's expression was curious. "I don't think he would appreciate you sharing your insights about his motivations."

Rolle's curious expression gave way to caution. "I won't say anything," he said earnestly.

Carlisle patted Rolle's knee. "This is your life, Rolle, so it's up to you what you want to do."

"But it's not," he pointed out, looking apologetically at his friends. "Not if Edward and Bella are dragged into the deal with me."

"I don't think there's a choice," Edward said. "He doesn't want to destroy you, but he can't let you go without some vow of obligation on your part."

"But that's exactly why I came here!" Rolle cried as he rose from his seat, agitated again. "To keep all of this away from you, from _Bella_."

"No." Bella stood and followed him. "That wasn't why you came here, Rolle." She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. "You came here because Caius was a threat, and now he's not." Rolle listened, but his expression was dark with doubt. "You've been alone too long."

Rolle thought about Rachel and a twinge of guilt made him pull his arm free from Bella's hand. Even though he knew that Edward could not hear his thoughts all the time, he knew by Edward's expression that this was not one of those times. He turned away from the question in Edward's eyes.

"I'll speak with Aro about your concerns," Carlisle offered.

Carlisle opened the library door, but did not go outside. A moment later Felix was there, guardedly asking him if he needed anything.

"Can you please take me to speak with Aro?" Carlisle said.

Felix regarded him and his suspicion gave way to simple caution before he relaxed. "Of course," he said with a nod. When Carlisle stood beside him in the door, Felix said, "Thank you."

Carlisle stopped short. "What for?"

Felix glanced at Rolle and met Carlisle's eyes. "For showing respect for our protocols, even now."

Carlisle looked back into the library, sharing a silent exchange with each of them, before looking back at Felix. "We are your guests, despite circumstances."

Felix nodded once, but his appreciation was sincere. "Follow me."

Edward continued to listen to Felix's thoughts long after the door closed. The guard was nervous, but respected the fact that Carlisle at least _pretended _that he was still a guest here instead of the conquering victors. The real question was, would Aro feel the same appreciation?

§∞•••∞§

* * *

**A/N: **Love and thanks to my beloved and loving peanut gallery: **Irishgirl**, **Songster **and **Emmanuelle Nathan**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for her super-awesome posting of my chapters.

to cross the River Styx  
The Myth of Orpheus  
http:/www(dot)renaissanceastrology(dot)com/orpheushymns(dot)htm


	19. Chapter 19 He who replies

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to me. Me! ME!**

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**Chapter 19: ****He who replies to words of doubt**

There was a knock on his door. Aro smiled wryly, easily recognizing Carlisle's distinct step and familiar scent.

"Come in," Aro answered, forcing himself to be polite even though he had no idea where he was finding this reserve of civility. The recent events made him feel uncharacteristically short-tempered.

Carlisle stepped through the door into the solar and remained politely close to it. "Aro," he said simply in greeting.

"Carlisle." Aro gestured to a chair. "Come in."

"How are you?"

Aro chuckled, shaking his head as Carlisle took a seat. "I am immortal and unchanging," he said. "And you have been spending far too much time around humans. You sound just like them."

"I take that as a compliment," Carlisle said, glancing around the familiar room.

"I meant it as one," Aro assured him in earnest. He took the seat across from Carlisle, leaning back comfortably and crossed his legs. "Things are quite a mess at the moment. Despite what you may think, I am truly happy to see you again. I have so missed our talks."

Carlisle's smile was congenial. "I thought you found them tedious."

"Well," Aro said tilting his head to the side, "perhaps on the rare occasion." When Carlisle only acknowledged this with a soft chuckle, Aro glanced in the direction of the door. "Where is your lovely mate?"

"Esme," Carlisle said out of human habit. "They're waiting in the library."

"Ah, good. I actually wanted you to myself, if that's all right," Aro admitted. When Carlisle looked confused, he explained, "I wanted to talk to you about these doubts you've been struggling with."

This wasn't at all the direction Carlisle had expected Aro to take. A guarded expression fell over his face as he recalled Aro taking his hand earlier. Of course, Aro knew every thought Carlisle had seen since they were together last, and knew everything Carlisle had been thinking lately as well as the reasons for those thoughts.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Carlisle muttered.

"But you're wrong," Aro told him sounding amused. "I _know_ you're wrong."

"Aro..." Carlisle warned, feeling his temper rise to the bait. "Don't we have more pressing matters to discuss?"

With a dramatic sigh, Aro leaned forward. "I have existed for countless lifetimes, eyewitness to the ebb and flow of humanity. I have seen the extremes of beauty and horror that humans are capable of. Carlisle..." he trailed off, shaking his head, "you are a babe in your existence. You think you've seen things? I'm more than ten times your age. Don't compare yourself to mortals, my friend. It's as ridiculous as comparing yourself to a hummingbird. They burn out just as quick."

Carlisle was unmoved by Aro's words. Perhaps it was ridiculous to compare himself to a hummingbird, but it was equally as absurd to compare himself to Aro: A true super-predator, not just in his ability to kill, but in his ability to survive.

Aro recognized the stony expression and laughed at the irony. "You're as stubborn as their teenagers, and just as self-absorbed." He ignored the flash of annoyance on Carlisle's face. "You assume I'm too old to understand, to set in my ways to appreciate what you're going through. Yet you fail to appreciate that perhaps in my age and wisdom I might have a larger base of knowledge to draw from? I have touched the lives of hundreds of thousands; known their secrets, their sins and their dreams. I have seen parts of the world that I have never traveled to,_ and_ watched those places change over the years. I know the location of treasures unheard of. I know the answers to mysteries that have long since lost their questions. The people who have died at my hand took nothing to their graves. Have you never considered that I would have seen atrocities so heinous that even _I_ would be surprised?"

Carlisle listened in growing embarrassment over his attitude. Except for the threat to his family, and the events concerning Rolle, he had always known Aro to be cautious, but fair; amusing, but wily. He coveted knowledge like no other, and it was not limited to books. He hoarded and protected music, art, and poetry... demonstrations of the human soul. What greater desire could there be for someone who had access to the birthplace of a man's dreams?

"I know you feel above them," Carlisle said softly. "I cannot imagine you feeling shock over their behavior as I have come to."

"Why not?" Aro asked.

"It would be nothing less than feeling dismay at a flock of chickens pecking an untended chick to death." Carlisle added sadly, "It's simply a fact of their nature."

"And you don't think I would find that act appalling?" Aro asked without judgment.

"I don't think you would bother yourself with the actions of 'chickens' in the first place," Carlisle answered honestly.

"So the chick would think that life is cruel and die in a valiant struggle, never knowing the farmer would fix the coop to protect other new chicks." Aro leaned back and steepled his fingers at his chin. "Only the cow would see the farmer hard at his work because the cow lived longer than the chick."

"I'm sorry," Carlisle said shaking his head slowly. "Am I the cow?"

"My point, my friend, is simply that you have nothing to worry. In fact, in my opinion, you are very close to understanding so... _much_!" Aro said excitedly, his hands rising in the air as if to encompass the enormity of it all. "You have no idea how little you've actually seen and yet you still sense the enormity of it all. That, alone, is a major leap in true understanding and knowledge."

Carlisle shook his head in confusion. "Seen what?"

"_Il progetto grande_," he whispered as if it were a great secret. "The big plan! The larger picture! The great tapestry!"

Carlisle regarded Aro uncomfortably. He felt like they were talking about the same thing, despite the labyrinthine conversation. Aro began to nod, watching Carlisle piece things together.

Aro was not a man of faith. He had come into being long before the shadow of the man, Jesus Christ. He had existed in a time when pagan gods ruled man's nature, not a single omniscient deity. For him, the notion of a single God was impossible to believe because he had been present at the birth of Christianity. It made no more sense for Aro to believe in God and a divine plan, than it would be for any man off the street today to regard his friend 'Chuck' as the catalyst for a religious revolution. It had to be hard to picture a person as a divinity when you knew them doing silly daily-life things, like bathing or spilling soup down their shirt. The idea that Aro, of all people, could believe in _God's greater plan_ was both enlightening and unnerving to Carlisle.

_"Only an immortal can even begin to see the skein of God's greater plan," _Aro quoted from one of Carlisle's memories.

Carlisle could not believe what he was hearing. "What are you saying, Aro?" he whispered amazed.

Aro smiled, excitement glowing in his red eyes as if the sun were shining on rubies. "I have seen so much through the memories of so many, that I begin to see the pattern."

"What pattern?" Carlisle eagerly wanted to know.

"Before I answer, let me ask you... When was the last time you ever experienced déjà vu?" He waited impatiently as Carlisle tried to remember. "Never in all your immortality, am I correct? You only have a vague memory of it perhaps happening when you were mortal?"

Carlisle shrugged and shook his head. "I suppose."

Aro smiled widely. "Exactly as I suspected. You no longer experience déjà vu because you no longer sleep, and only in sleeping can the mind move between the boundaries." He could see Carlisle's confusion mounting, so he explained, "I believe déjà vu is not simply an _illusion_ of an event that has happened before, but that it happens for a _reason_."

"And that reason is?" Carlisle prompted.

"Your life-force or soul or whatever you will call it, can see the plan and the pattern. It can see your future. I believe déjà vu is actually a dream you had in a past life of events that are happening to you now. Déjà vu is your soul, remembering the dream."

Carlisle sat back. "Aro..."

"Wait! Wait my friend, and let me explain," the elder encouraged, knowing he had lost Carlisle intellectually. "The first time I experienced it, it had no meaning. I had seen the vague memory of someone's dream, nothing more. Then centuries later, I watched that very dream play out exactly as it had been envisioned. I recognized everyone in the moment from my victim's memories years before. I began to pay closer attention, seeking out these memories of déjà vu.

"Suspect what?" Carlise asked again not able to refuse his curiosity. He had never seen Aro like this before.

"Déjà vu is only the conscious clarification, the actual event, of something that they saw in a dream from a past life," he repeated. "They _dream_ about their future lives!

"I began to see the pattern myself through their memories!" Aro added excitedly. "What I have come to suspect over my existence is that when we become immortal, we take ourselves outside of _God's greater plan_, as you call it. You said it yourself. Only by existing for so long can we begin to see it at work; that things happen as they do for a reason. When we become immortal, we remove ourselves from the cycle, the weaving.

"_They_ are the pattern. Creatures, people. Living and dying. THAT is the pattern. The _circle," _he said, pausing over the word, "of life! The reason they cannot recognize the patterns themselves is because the faces of all the people around them change. Even the sex and age... even _species _changes, but they are the _same_ people they knew before—like actors playing new roles—but they are so grossly out of context that they think they are new people, not familiar ones. So when something happens, and they shrug it off to déjà vu, they are actually remembering a dream from a past life, where they dreamed themselves in this moment. That is why they feel they've done it before or why they feel they connect to another person on an unusually intense level.

"When you're "in the pattern of the tapestry," so to speak, you only see the threads around you. Only by removing yourself from the weaving, as we have done, can you rise above it and see where everything connects... and _then_ you can only really see it if you can know every thought a person has ever had, as I have."

"Reincarnation?" Carlisle asked.

"Reincarnation. A soul. Does it matter what it is called?" Aro asked with a smile, remembering how much he missed being able to have conversations like this with Carlisle, and why he was so fond of him. Caius was too pedantic to grasp the greater meanings of life versus existence.

"But reincarnation presupposes that a being learns from his mistakes and grows from it," Carlisle reminded him. "That a karmic balance must be reached."

"Yes, yes, but by whose definition?" Aro asked. "Let's take out the religious overtones of karma and repentance for a moment, and simply refer to the idea of a life force."

"The church of George Lucas?" Carlisle almost laughed, but swallowed his amusement at Aro's confusion. He silently reprimanded Jasper and Rose for their love of pop culture. He could hear Emmett laughing triumphantly, however.

Aro ignored the comment when Carlisle's contrite expression went unexplained.

"You recall the tsunami in 2004?" he asked. When Carlisle nodded, Aro asked again, "Did you hear about the unusual connection between an infant hippo and tortoise?"

Carlisle simply started at him and Aro grew even more amused. "Stories of the lioness adopting a baby oryx? The polar bear that befriended a sled dog? The Koi that surfaced whenever the family retriever came to the pond? The Dolphin that bonded itself to a mutt? The deer that follows and nuzzles the rabbit?"

"You're implying that these interspecies connections..." Carlisle began.

"Are actually life forces that recognize each other from past lives?" Aro finished with a gleam in his eye. "Do you begin to see the power and continuity of it? How it binds every life? That they are eternally bound to those they recognize across time?"

Carlisle realized then that Aro felt no remorse at all in killing for he simply viewed his existence as a necessary role in the great circle of life, ushering in the next instance of a life force finding material form again.

"You imply that these things are predestined to happen? That there is no choice or free will?" Carlisle asked.

"Perhaps. Perhaps you and your mate knew each other before," Aro offered. "That is the strength of your connection, why some people are so bound to each other. Imagine _la tua cantante. _ Perhaps it isn't the blood at all. Perhaps that is the only way we, who have forever removed ourselves from the circle, can recognize those we knew before, who are still within the circle. Our life force has been removed, but the call is still present, forever searching for those who were woven into the tapestry where we once resided."

"Then we were fated to become what we are," Carlisle concluded.

"No, but perhaps we _are_ fated to go through life with the same people, souls, whatever you want to call it." Aro held his hands as if to capture the entire thought. "I haven't glimpsed anything to convince me that all beings still have free will. I'm not sure if you could call that fate in the literal sense of the word."

Carlisle considered this, recalling what he knew of the Indian religions whose doctrines incorporated such philosophies. In an attempt to distance himself from the cruelties of Christianity, he had studied many religions from Islam to Scientology. All of them had their positive aspects as well as negative ones. Carlisle was always left feeling as though the truth were somehow in the middle, but still just as vague and debatable as other philosophies regarding existence, knowledge, and values.

"Reincarnation, but not necessarily karma?" Carlisle asked aloud.

"Oh! Well, I don't know about that," Aro said, sitting back in his chair comfortably. "If their fate in this particular instance of their existence was to become my victim, then wouldn't their 'path of enlightenment' teach them to know better next time? Perhaps their enlightenment will be to never book a trip from Heidi," he joked.

"My point is," Aro continued, "that some part of them has dreamed of their future. I've seen it several times now, this... absolute certainty that events are playing out and unfolding _just as they dreamed_! Even we, who will live forever, cannot grasp the enormity of this, unless you have learned as I have how the tapestry is connected."

"Because you know another person's mind and have seen all the times they've experienced déjà vu," Carlisle clarified.

"Yes!" Aro's excitement was palpable. "You really should let me spend time with your young Edward, my friend. If he only _knew_ what to look for! Oh, don't look at me like that," he scowled at Carlisle's mask of doubt. "Yes, what Edward can do is useful for the sake of power, but for the sake of _knowledge_... you have to admit that my gift is far more appropriate."

Carlisle regarded Aro in terms of a different motivating factor that he hadn't truly considered before. Rolle was right. It wasn't truly power that drove Aro and his zealous formation of the Volturi Guard. There was a much more personal motive.

Aro simply felt his life and the knowledge he had collected over the millennia were too precious to be lost. His ultimate vanity was that he felt he, personally, was too valuable to be lost; that if anything happened to him, the accumulation of knowledge he held would be like losing every printed character across the world, every scroll and every book. Aro didn't collect talented vampires solely to protect himself and their way of life, or even for the sake of pure power. He collected them out of self-preservation.

Carlisle carefully schooled his expression though he also realized the futility of this effort. When next Aro touched him, he would know immediately the conclusion that Carlisle had come to. He also realized that he had fallen into the same trap that Aro had with Caius: In the prolonged absence of any other evidence, it was very easy to believe ill-meaning whispers. Aro had fallen victim to Caius' whispers of the Cullens, just as Carlisle had begun to believe the perceptions that Aro was evil.

"Do you see now how you don't need to mourn their loss of life, even if they are very young?" Aro asked with surprising gentleness, now referring to the loss of faith and depression Carlisle had been struggling with since the terrorist attack. "Whether they die by our hand or another's, nothing is truly lost. Death is not forfeit of life. It is simply... something different. We are nothing but the arbiters of change, my friend. I'm convinced beyond doubt that they each find their way back and into the lives of those they knew before, just as they always have, just as it has always been. With new faces and new forms, yes, but always returning to those who lay with them in the tapestry of existence. "

Carlisle was silent a long time as he considered these words. Aro's observations had unsettled him and even with his supernatural abilities it took him a moment to process everything Aro was implying.

"And if those your existence is entwined with, fail you?" Carlisle asked, thinking of the father who ran off in fear and left his children to die alone. He thought, too, about Rosalie's fiancé who had attacked and raped her, and left her for dead. He thought about Esme's human husband who had abused her. "Are you doomed to endure their weaknesses again and again?"

Aro smiled kindly. "Of course not. They're just people. Experiences make people what they are, and only _they_ can break the cycle, in this life or the next. A boy who is beaten by his father can choose to not beat his own children when he grows into a man. The abusive father, likewise, can choose to not beat his child in a future existence. The future is always changing based on decisions people aren't even aware they are going to make. Your Alice knows this."

Carlisle noted again the way Aro was careful to choose his words. _Your Edward. Your mate. Your Alice. _ Aro was too meticulous with semantics to take their meaning lightly. He was sending a message of assurance to Carlisle in addition to their philosophical discussion.

"Aro," Carlisle said suddenly with the ghost of a real smile playing at his lips. "We cannot go so long between our talks again."

Their conversation felt familiar and easy despite the day's events, and though they were enjoying this reminder of why they valued each other's friendship, they both knew they had not touched upon the real issues between them.

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**A/N: **Love and thanks to my beloved and loving peanut gallery: **Irishgirl**, **Songster **and **Emmanuelle Nathan**. My special thanks to **Philadelphic** and **Original_au** for sharing their time and thoughts concerning reincarnation, philosophy and déjà vu. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for her super-awesome posting of my chapters.

He who replies to words of doubt  
Auguries of Innocence by William Blake  
http:/www(dot)online-literature(dot)com/poe/612/

A hippo and a tortoise tale  
http:/www(dot)npr(dot)org/templates/story/story(dot)php?storyId=4754996

A lion and oryx tale  
http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=mD5bCNvAihU


	20. Chapter 20 In the pain, there is healing

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to me. Me! ME!**

**I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I've just returned from Comic Con 2010 and will be posting a con report on my blog, as well as links to pictures, sometime this week.**

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

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**Chapter 20: In the pain, there is healing. In your name, I find meaning.**

Edward stayed attuned to Carlisle's thoughts as he followed Felix to Aro's chambers. When he was sure that Carlisle would be safe, he turned and found Bella watching him. He knew her eyes had been following him the entire time. Their eyes locked and the library around them dimmed and faded away. There were no Volturi. There was no Italy. There was only their love for each other, leaving them floating alone together in the vast universe.

His feet moved him forward, responding to an invisible power that constantly pulled him to her. No matter how far apart they were, the gravity of the other kept them tethered. On the rare occasion they needed to be apart, the pull became even more insistent, demanding their bodies to reconnect, whether it was a few feet or miles. The two of them made up the whole and allowing any space between them violated the natural order. No matter how mundane or safe the task that separated them was, simply being apart left an uncomfortable void: shopping with Alice, inspecting property with Carlisle, setting up their next home while the other stayed behind to pack. Here, in Volterra, with so much doubt and uncertainty hanging in the air, even a few inches between them had the painful feeling of being a universe apart.

Edward crossed the room and sat next to her. All he wanted in this moment was to shed their clothes and hold her, pressing every possible inch of her skin to his, but he settled for wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close as he kissed her forehead, leaving his lips parted against her skin to breathe and taste her.

"I love you," he whispered against her skin, feeling the now familiar thrill of electricity race across his lips where they touched.

"I can't believe we both pounced on Aro like that," she said, shaking her head slightly.

Edward frowned. "It was stupid of me. I couldn't let you put yourself in danger like that."

Bella leaned back and looked into his eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And I couldn't let you. Don't you see? We both had the same reaction. We knew we had to stay together. It's the only way for us." Her smile grew more at the thought. "It makes me happy to know that staying together is as strong as our instincts."

"You weren't afraid?" he asked.

"I was afraid for Esme and Carlisle," she admitted. "I was afraid your stubborn gallant side would come out in a misguided attempt to keep me safe."

"My concern for your safety is never misguided, Bella," Edward insisted.

She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression wry and incredulous. "Never?"

He couldn't hold back his smile at the irony. In addition to loving her, he would also spend eternity paying for leaving her nine months after she came into his life. "All right. I'll give you that one."

She kissed the corner of his mouth. "My point is... we're always stronger as a whole than as individual pieces. I know you feel it, too."

She rested her hand on his thigh, curling her fingers behind his knee and pressing her shield out to him. As he felt her let him into her thoughts, he took a deep relaxing breath to let go of the stress that had him coiled so tight. Bella looked up at him and watched his eyes change from deep concern to tenderness. She brushed her lips softly against his. As he heard her thoughts, he felt more at peace and completely consumed by her presence. As her mind opened and reached out to his, the essence of her curled through his mind and chest and limbs, just as her arms curled around him now.

When Edward had first glimpsed the pieces of Rolle's mind, he could see the way Rolle clutched at the memory of Gillian, trying to create a place in his mind with the woman he loved holding him forever in her arms.

Edward sometimes feared his mind had done the same thing.

Even after ten exquisite years as Bella's husband, there would be moments when he would wonder if she was real or if he was still hiding in a nondescript attic of a Brazilian ghetto. Was he still holding the phone to his ear, the battery long dead and Rosalie's signal lost in the atmosphere? Was he sitting there, covered in dust and cobwebs with Rose's words trapped in an awful repeating loop: "She's dead, Edward." His mind had broken then, too, just like Rolle's. The despair that this blissful life with her was a figment of his imagination would lick at him like flames and tear at his skin.

Seeing her sometimes wasn't enough to convince him it wasn't all in his mind. Her smile and her face had long ago been burned into his eyes even before he left her. It had both haunted and comforted him during those months away from her. When he thought she was dead, it was all he had of her. No, just seeing her wasn't enough to convince him of the truth of her.

Touching her would douse the flames of doubt, but nothing—not even making love to her—could extinguish them as entirely as her beautiful, complex mind when she allowed him into her deepest shield. He was assured of her existence because there was no possibility he could ever imagine the creative and ridiculously selfless way her mind worked. It was utterly unique and completely, maddeningly, unpredictable.

_Will Carlisle be all right?_ she asked. Edward replied with a silent nod.

_But you're still worried,_ she nodded once with a subtle shrug.

Bella decided to ask the harder question. _Can we trust Aro? _Edward's answer was wry half smile that did not feel like a 'yes.'

Doubt crept into her eyes. _Should we be worried?_

Edward raised his hand to trace her cheek and jaw. When he glanced at Rolle who sat forlorn and dejected beside Esme, Bella followed his gaze. Without saying a word, she knew what Edward was implying. Aro would be foolish to antagonize Rolle. She did not know if it was possible to have enough cunning to get around Rolle's mimic gift without being discovered. But how much did any of that really protect Edward and herself, and even Alice, from Aro's plots and schemes.

"I don't know," Edward spoke at last, "but I trust Carlisle."

When Edward looked up again, he found Rolle standing next to Bella. The immediate jolt of panic to protect her did not surface. Instead, an image came to mind—one of Rolle throwing himself in front of Bella to protect her when Alec attacked.

"Can I talk to you?" Rolle muttered, staring at the floor.

Bella glanced at Edward. She expected to see his hard stare and intractable expression. After what happened today, she thought there would be no way her husband would ever let Rolle within arm's reach of her. However, Edward was staring at his friend with a deep mixture of sadness and sympathy. Bella knew instantly that Edward was hearing Rolle's mind, and that meant that Rolle's mental state was at least moderately stable.

_Is he... okay?_ she asked Edward.

Edward squeezed her hand and looked at her. Their exchange was quick and silent: a conversation of nuances in body language and expressions that only lovers attain.

Reassured by Edward, Bella's answer was welcoming and fearless, "Of course."

Edward brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. He stood to give up his seat to Rolle and paused. "Did you need privacy?" he asked.

Rolle shook his head, managing a faint smile of thanks.

Edward walked across the library to Esme and sat next to her, knowing she was anxious about Carlisle and smiling when she hugged his arm in both of hers.

Bella continued to look at Rolle, but he stood where he was, either unwilling or unable to take the seat beside her. He looked lost and troubled. She took his hand and pulled him down to sit with her. He complied easily but still remained silent and wouldn't meet her eyes.

After a moment of silence, Bella rocked to the side and nudged his shoulder with her own. "Hi," she said.

The flicker of a smile showed that he knew what she was trying to do. "Hi."

"How have you been?" Bella asked, hoping silly pleasantries would help put him at ease.

This time the faint smile lingered longer. "Oh, you know; same old, same old. Depressed, lonely, a psychotic rampage here and there. Nothing new."

Bella nodded, keeping her nerves in check. "Same shit, different day?"

"Pretty much," he muttered and with a labored sigh, he shook his head. "I only made things worse for you both."

She debated how honest to be with him, but lying about their predicament now was pointless. "Maybe a little, but after hearing Caius' rants I really don't want to think about what could have happened if he had been left unchecked. We understand why you did all of this, Rolle, but you undervalue what you mean to us." Rolle glanced at her. "We couldn't be happy knowing you were sacrificing so much for us, you goofball."

He seemed unable to let go of the mess he'd made, and Bella huffed through her nose. "Look, I finally got Edward out of his brooding, so don't you go and take his place."

Sitting within easy hearing distance, even for a human, Edward shot her a scowl even as he smiled.

"Hey!" Edward tried to keep from smiling back at her.

"I broke my promise." Rolle put his elbows on his knees, and leaned over until his forehead was in his hands. "I don't... I feel..."

"You had no way of knowing any of this," Bella said. "You spent the last two months with us, and even we didn't know how bad it was for you. We only started to suspect what you could-"

Rolle started shaking his head. "Bella," he interrupted, "That's not... I cheated on Jill."

"What?" She had to have heard him wrong, but he could not repeat the shameful confession.

Bella was utterly stunned. She didn't know what to say to him. It was the last thing in the world she ever expected him to say. He was so much like Edward in so many ways; she couldn't even imagine such a thing happening.

"Did she know?" she asked, trying to cover her own internal conflict.

Rolle shrugged. "I guess. She sees everything now, right?"

His words didn't make sense. Bella was still reeling with this, struggling to fit it into what she thought she knew about Rolle. "Did you guys ever talk about it?"

"I tried," he whispered, "but it would help if there was some way I could know for sure that she heard me."

Bella turned to look at him, completely confused now, but wondering suddenly if they were talking about different things. She stared at his slumped shoulders and thought of a question that could provide her answer. "When did it happen?"

"Last week," he said with an unfamiliar crack in his voice.

The world seemed to rock back onto it axis and Bella felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest relax. She had never realized before how much she equated Rolle and Edward until that moment. She felt like a fool for even feeling anxious about it, but couldn't deny the relief she felt knowing it hadn't happened the way she thought. There was nothing imagined about the pain Rolle was in now, though, believing he had betrayed his true love.

The gravity of her realization stuck her. The three of them shared a sense of truly destined and eternal love, something beyond even that of vampires and their mates. Rolle and Gillian had found each other as humans. Bella herself was still human when she found Edward. It was clichéd to think of themselves as soul mates, but what else could it be called? _Something_ linked them together so completely that the power of it evaded definition.

Edward, however, focused on a more practical aspect of Rolle's admission and couldn't stop himself from interrupting.

"You-you what?" he asked, stunned.

"I had sex with someone else."

"A human?" Edward asked again, pressing for confirmation.

Rolle nodded, chagrinned.

"But... how?" Edward said, the word sounding more like a gasp.

A fleeting look of confusion, then incredulity, and finally embarrassment washed across Rolle's expressive face. "I... you know. What, do you want the mechanics?" he whispered in shock.

Edward rubbed his hand hard over his face. "No! No, but how did... Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to... physically... _be_ with Bella?"

Rolle opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say. He simply shook his head and shrugged helplessly. "I don't... think about... you know, you guys, doing... stuff."

"What?" Edward gasped, stunned. He never meant to imply any such thing and gaped at the thought that anyone would spend time thinking of Bella and himself being intimate. He shook his head to get the conversation back on track. "No! No, Rolle, how did you have sex with a human without hurting her?"

"I-I don't know. I just did it," Rolle stammered.

"Edward," Esme said softly, resting her hand on Edward's tense arm. As Edward looked at her, she smiled knowingly at him. "How do you _think_ he knew how not to hurt her?" she said, glancing at Bella before she added, "He learned it from you."

Although Bella appreciated Edward's dismay about the possibility that Rolle could do such a thing, she knew Rolle needed to talk about the fact that he felt he cheated on the woman he loved. She rubbed her hand across his shoulders. "She's been gone for a long time, Rolle. She would understand."

Rolle gasped and looked at her. "Would she?"

He needed to know. Bella understood now why Rolle needed to tell her. Rolle viewed her opinion as if it were coming from Gillian herself, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that Gillian would have wanted Rolle to find a way to be happy.

It was so easy to picture their roles reversed. Bella knew there would never be a love for her like Edward, and knew in her heart that the same was true for Rolle. Even if they tried, nothing could equate to what they shared with their heart's mates.

What she had always believed as a human—that the world would simply be a desolate place without Edward—was even truer now after ten years of marriage; their life together had only strengthened her conviction. If she were to die, she would want Edward to carry on and try to find happiness, even if it would be impossible in many ways.

She understood so much better now, what Rolle had done all these years, even if he couldn't face the truth of it. No matter how impossible it had been for him, no matter that the truth was masked in a lie he created for his own sanity, Rolle _was_ trying to live without Gillian. She felt her heart swell as she remembered Edward discouraging her from trying to convince Rolle of the truth.

Rolle had lived, but had never been happy. He didn't _want_ Bella to justify what he'd done. Right now, Rolle _needed_ her to reaffirm what Gillian, herself, would have said if she could: try, no matter how hard, to be happy.

"Of course she would! She loved you!" Bella said earnestly, despite never having known the woman. "She wouldn't want to see you so sad and alone."

Rolle's eyes closed as he shook his head. "I betrayed her memory; everything we were together."

Bella heard his words and understood completely: finding comfort in the arms of anyone else would feel like infidelity. She would have felt the same if she were trying to exist without Edward. Seeing it from the other side, though, she knew she couldn't bear to see Edward living with this kind of sorrow for eternity. If there were any possibility that he could find something that could hold the pain at bay, even for a while, she would want that for him.

"I know it feels that way," she whispered, "but you didn't." She shook his shoulders when he groaned in argument. "It would tear her apart to see you like this, Rolle! Do you know how I know that?" She knew she had his attention. "Because it would tear my heart out to see Edward like this."

Her breath shuddered and she pushed past it. "She's alone, too. She's somewhere without you right now," Bella gently pointed out. "Would you want her to be hurting like this?"

Rolle crumpled even more into her arms, as his hands ran into his hair so hard he was in danger of pulling out fistfuls. Gillian was alone. She was alone and it was his fault. He was a murderer. She had been the color in the sky, the music in the wind. She had been his, and he had let his pain and rage turn him into a monster. He dropped his forehead onto her knee as a sob caught deep in his chest.

Bella wrapped her fingers around his, silently urging him to break his grip. Before she could hurt herself trying to stop him, Rolle let his hands go slack. She stroked his head, resting her cheek on the back of his shoulder, and told him the one thing she knew he needed to hear more than anything else.

"You will never stop loving her just like she will never stop loving you. Nothing you've done and nothing you will ever do can change that. Ever. You said it yourself; that kind of love is what makes the stars burn."

She held him quietly, soothing him with her touch and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder as she comforted him. Deep in the bowels of the castle a cello began to play, its gentle vibrato resonated through the cool stone halls. Chopin's sonata curled through the air as Bella let Rolle rest there with her. The notes themselves sounded old, layered in dust and wisdom. As the last lingering note slowly evaporated, Rolle's fingers slid gently over hers and with his breath, a final word.

"Thank you."

~•~

Aro regarded Carlisle with an amused smile, secretly glad of the proof that Carlisle enjoyed their talks as much as he did, but they had put off the harder discussion long enough. As the recent events crept around in the growing shadows in the corners of the room, the weight of Aro's responsibilities pulled the smile from his face.

Carlisle understood the reason. He had been glad for the reminder of the reasons he liked Aro, but there was an elephant in the room and they needed to discuss it. "I'm sorry about Caius," he began. "I feel responsible."

Aro was shaking his head as soon as Carlisle started speaking and held up his hand to stop him. "You did nothing."

"But Rolle-" Carlisle tried again.

"Was acting defensively in response to Caius' threat against your family," Aro finished, but there was no malice in his voice. "I'm partly to blame for letting it go on for so long and for lending credence to his postulations by sending Marcus."

Carlisle stayed quiet out of respect. He still felt guilty about their part in all of this, but he couldn't bring himself to speak ill of a man that Aro had know for millennia.

"Familiarity after so long breeds acceptance, I've found," Aro mused as if speaking to himself. "To hear another's voice year after year, you sometimes find yourself mixing your thoughts and theirs." Aro looked up to find Carlisle looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, my friend. I'm making you feel awkward."

"I expected you to be more..." Carlisle floundered for a word that wouldn't sound insulting or demeaning.

"Outraged?" Aro supplied and sighed heavily, looking across the room over his shoulder. "Caius was the son of an archon; a brilliant man in his own right, but outshone by Caius nonetheless. He was truly a case of the son surpassing the father. Where his father was known for strength and cruelty, Caius also applied wisdom and strategy to the mix. I'm convinced he would have changed the course of human history if left to his own devices when he was mortal. It was actually he who first conceived the notion of the Guard, you know," Aro admitted.

Carlisle listened in silence, not really surprised by Aro's revelations, but still in awe of them. The world was so very different and so very large—and mostly undiscovered—three thousand years ago.

"We discovered each other shortly after we were turned, but he had no idea that there were those of us with special powers. I think, at first, the prospect frightened him, but he had an advantage that few had then, and that was education. He could read. He understood war and government and politics. I admired him greatly, but I think he began to long for those days, needing conflict and chaos to feel challenged in his immortality.

"It's actually Jane who I will mourn," Aro said.

"Jane?" Carlisle was surprised to hear this.

Aro nodded. "She looked on me as a dutiful daughter would look upon her father. She was extremely efficient and immensely loyal. Oh, don't give me that sanctimonious look, Carlisle," he said, seeing the disbelieving look on Carlisle's face. "As a doctor, surely you can appreciate the difference between pain and death."

"Yes, but she may have had a little too much enjoyment in her duties," Carlisle said carefully.

Aro waved this off. "I don't fault anyone for taking pride in that which they do well."

Carlisle tactfully decided to drop this line of conversation.

"I'd much rather teach someone a lesson than destroy them. She and Rolle would have made a delightful team, but alas..." Aro's words trailed off along with his dreams of what could have been.

Carlisle was quiet, knowing what he wanted to say, but hesitant to broach the subject even as he was eager to be done with it and back with his family again. "How will you teach Rolle a lesson?" he asked quietly, not surprised to see Aro's eyes tighten.

"I'll admit that I'm torn with how to deal with him. I find it hard to condemn him for what happened today when it's obvious he has no idea how to control what he does." Aro's face hardened. "He lied to me, and _that_ I will not tolerate, regardless of his reasons."

Carlisle wanted to interject, but had spent enough time around Aro to know he wasn't finished talking.

Aro reflected on how his own hands were partly at fault for Rolle's condition. He closed his eyes and steepled his fingers remembering the day he destroyed his sister, Didyme—Marcus' mate. It happened only a few hours after Marcus made Rolle. If he had only waited a few more days to kill her, perhaps Rolle would have been safely ensconced within the Guard before Marcus learned of her death. The last sixty-six years could have been spent honing the boy into the tracker and enforcer he was born to be.

Aro sighed and clasped his fingers. First, wronged by himself, then Marcus, then the Romanians—he made a mental note to deal with that situation soon—and left untrained, wandering the oceans in madness... perhaps the boy had already paid for his lie. It was, after all, a lie made necessary because he had not quelled Caius' paranoia.

Aro opened his eyes and looked at Carlisle, thinking of the ultimatum he had delivered: Carlisle's life, if the boy killed again without permission. He was sorry he demanded it now, but he would not rescind it.

"You should let me destroy him," Aro offered in a kind voice.

Carlisle knew Aro meant his words to be a validation of their friendship, but he could only hear the coldness in them. "I have faith in him," he said.

Aro smiled. "Of course, you do. Your faith makes you believe that a leopard can change his spots."

"Or that a vampire can change his diet," Carlisle replied.

Aro laughed, shaking his head. "This is why I don't worry about you, my dear friend. You may have come face to face with some harsh realities recently, and your faith may have wavered but it has never left you. You're simply too stubborn."

"Speaking of stubborn," Carlisle said, rising from his chair as he sensed their conversation coming to an end.

"Ah, yes. Young Edward and his Bella."

"They have concerns."

"I'm sure they do." Aro looked annoyed a moment before resignation washed it away. "You know the position I must occupy here, and the appearance of control and command with the Guard. My hands are tied... for now."

Carlisle frowned at the qualifier to Aro's words.

"If they bring Rolle to me when he's needed, we will leave it at that," Aro said with a nod.

"For now," Carlisle repeated, not hiding the sneer in his voice this time, but it only made Aro smile.

"For now." Aro's brown creased into a frown. "Do you understand the responsibility you are burdening yourself with?" When Carlisle did not answer, Aro felt obligated to enlighten him. "You will be his keeper, as much as his teacher, and there is no time-constraint on how long this might be necessary. If the boy cannot learn to control his abilities..." He shook his head.

"Family ties don't have an expiration date, Aro," Carlisle said.

Aro nodded. "But he isn't yours. He may not struggle against the leash I have placed in your hand, but unlike Alice and Jasper, it isn't his choice. With his inability to discern his own intentions from others..." Aro suddenly felt uneasy about his decision and the risk he was demanding Carlisle to take.

He tapped his finger against his lips as he considered ways to safeguard his friend. "I want the boy bonded to me."

It took all of Carlisle's control not to gape. "What?"

Bonding between vampires was rare and punishable by death except between sires or mated pairs. Vampires were bonded to those they made; their venom creating the link between childe and sire. Mates would sometimes bond themselves to one another in a mutual exchange of venom through bites in the throes of passion. But to ingest the venom of another vampire outside of these exceptions was to forfeit your will to another. The act was so deeply frowned upon by vampires that it was not only the Volturi who punished transgressors. The bond could only be forged voluntarily and without sense or sign of coercion, for only in death would the bond be broken, freeing the otherwise enslaved vampire. These bonds were so deeply scrutinized by their society that not even the Volturi had ever employed them. Aro preferred Chelsea's gift instead, which allowed him to produce the same effects without the stigma of the actual act.

"If he asks to bond himself to me, then I will know he cannot go against my wishes."

Carlisle carefully considered his words, not wanting to give Aro the wrong impression, but if truth be told, his first reaction was worry what Edward would do if he knew Aro suggested this. It made no sense as Marcus was Rolle's sire and there was already a bond, of sorts. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, masking his own feelings.

"You have an opinion?" Aro asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"I... have... concerns," Carlisle was able to say without sounding judgmental.

"And they are...?"

"Well," he began slowly, making his way around his chair, "as you've said, what has happened here today can hardly go unnoticed, and if you allow Rolle to go with me to help him learn to control his gifts, it could be called into question why he would voluntarily bind himself to anyone, since he already bears a prestigious lineage as Marcus' childe."

Aro's lips were tight, both annoyed and amused. "Are you trying to... how do they say, _handle_ me, Carlisle?"

Shaking his head, Carlisle knew even Aro had his boundaries. "Not at all. I'm only trying to shine a light on how others may interpret such an action. You're the one that's always saying it's all about perceptions, not facts."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with Edward's reaction to such a request, would it?" Aro asked boldly.

Now Carlisle smiled, knowing Aro was testing his honesty. "Yes. Edward's head might literally explode if he knew you made this request."

Aro burst into laughter. "Now there's an image," he was able to say after a moment. As his humor calmed, he grew serious again. "It's you I'm worried about," he confessed. "I don't trust his ability to control himself. Do you think he would agree to bind himself to you?"

Carlisle's eyes went wide in surprise.

"Surely, even Edward can see the merits of such a bond," Aro pointed out.

"Me?" Carlisle whispered.

"As his teacher, I think it would be prudent, don't you?"

After experiencing the devastation that Rolle's powers could unleash, the trust and faith Aro was showing in him left Carlisle speechless.

"I've already commanded him that he's not to harm you, but I don't have his loyalty. I doubt he would ever consider hurting you or your family, regardless. He holds you in high esteem, but Edward was correct in his description that a beaten dog can still bite a loving hand without intending malice. In Rolle's case, however, his attack would be more than a bite, no matter how guilty he felt about it afterwards."

Carlisle took his seat again and just stared at Aro.

"Do you think he will agree?" Aro asked again. He watched Carlisle for an answer a moment more before taking matters into his own hand. "Let's ask him, shall we?"

§∞•••∞§

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**A/N: **Love and thanks to my beloved and loving peanut gallery: **Irishgirl**, **Songster **and **Emmanuelle Nathan**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for her super-fast validating of my chapters.

In the pain, there is healing. In your name, I find meaning.  
"Broken" by Lighthouse  
http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=RFGyqHEkfN8  
(this is Rolle's song, and worth listening to all the lyrics bcuz it's SOO him)

Gregor Piatigorsky plays Chopin Sonata  
http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=OqipjgPDYxk

By the Boab tree - Angela Little, Australia soundtrack  
http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=1ycPgshuhLw  
http:/www(dot)australiamovie(dot)net/soundtrack-lyrics/#boab


	21. Chapter 21 To Begin Again

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to me. Me! ME!**

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

* * *

**Chapter 21 To Begin Again**

Carlisle followed Aro back to the library in silence as the meaning of this new responsibility settled on him. He was still uncomfortable about Aro's suggestion that Rolle bind himself. Venom bonds were not undertaken lightly. It affected a vampire deeply and in ways that were not fully understood. The most significant was the sire bond, creating a compulsion to protect and care for the one you brought into immortality. The more disturbing version of this was to artificially create that bond in a vampire by making him ingest large amounts of venom from another vampire.

"Aro?" Carlisle asked hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"I feel uncomfortable with this. We already know Rolle has very little free will. How can I help him learn control if he's subjugated like this?" They rounded the corner into the hall toward the library.

"You're not worried about your safety?" Aro asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I'm more concerned what this will mean to him... and you," he added.

Aro stopped. "Me?"

"You can't deny that insisting that Rolle bond himself to _me_ would send a very strong message to the Guard. It could be construed that you approve what happened here, and that you are not bothered by the events in spite of Caius' accusations toward me." Carlisle carefully ventured, "It could even be perceived as... conspired."

His voice was soft and he hoped that he looked embarrassed enough about giving voice to this concern, but he couldn't bring himself to look for Aro's expression to check. It was enough that he could see Aro had stiffened in his peripheral vision.

After a long pause, Aro turned and continued their walk back to the library. They walked in silence for most of the journey. Aro knew Carlisle was right. Caius was convinced of a Cullen conspiracy and even convinced a few others that he was right about them. When Rolle entered their midst like a ticking time bomb, after arriving straight from Carlisle's home, he knew he had to be careful about who the Guard felt Rolle was aligned to. When they were closer, Aro finally broke the silence.

"You have a gift for strategy, Carlisle," he said quietly, an edge still in his voice, "and a orthogonal way of thinking about a problem. You've essentially argued me out of having any kind of constraint on the boy when I only suggested the bonding as a way to protect _you_."

Carlisle stopped at the library door with his fingers resting on the handle. "I appreciate that, Aro. I truly do. And I'm happier than I can tell you that you still value our friendship as much as I do. I just want Rolle to have the opportunity to prove himself without any more influences to dictate his actions. Asking him to bind himself to me won't make my job any easier in helping him to find control."

Aro tilted his head to the side, regarding his friend and sighed softly with a nod. "Very well."

Carlisle couldn't fight the smile that turned up the corners of his mouth, but he did his best to keep it small. With a nod of thanks, he pushed open the door and found Esme's relieved and happy eyes on him in an instant. He returned it automatically, until he heard Rolle's voice from his right.

"What's a bond?"

~•~

"Rolle will be coming back with Carlisle," Alice said quietly, her eyes distant and unfocused. "He's going to join our family."

"What?" Rose shouted, outraged.

She had only just hung up the phone after Esme's call to assure them that they were all right. Alice's refusal to talk about her visions lately had put Rose on edge. She had let her frustration find expression through being particularly difficult and short with Alice, Jasper and Emmett, snapping at them for pacing, snapping at them for sitting still, snapping at them for being too quiet. It was bad enough that her family was split in half, and it was worse that Carlisle was taking them into danger for a man who attacked them, no matter the reasons.

Whenever she thought of the image of Emmett, unconscious and maimed, her non-existent tears burned like fire. Immortal or not, she did not want to have the people she loved in the presence of an unstable personality with frightening powers. She didn't care how nice it sang or how pretty it looked. They could paint Rolle Tiffany-Blue and put him in a diamond-studded banana hammock and she _still_ wouldn't want him anywhere near Emmett or anyone else in her family.

"You're not serious," she snarled. "Tell me you're not serious and that the future is still changing."

Alice shook her head. "It's settled. Aro has asked Carlisle to help Rolle learn to control his gifts, in exchange for letting him live."

"_Let him die!_" Rose cried and her anger made Jasper wince. "I don't want him near any of us after what he did. Carlisle can't possibly agree to this without talking to all of us."

Alice sighed, trying to be understanding with her sister. "Maybe I didn't word that right. Aro doesn't _ask_ anything he doesn't already know the answer to. It wasn't really up for discussion."

"I don't want him here. Period." Rose crossed her arms and straightened her back.

"I do," Emmett said quietly.

Rosalie whirled on him, her eyes flashing. "How can you, of all people, say that?"

Emmett wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him, strengthening his grip on her when she remained inflexible. "Cuz I get it." His voice was soft as he stared into her bright and angry eyes. "I get why he did what he did, Rose. I can't be mad at him for it. Actually, I'm impressed he had the balls to do that for us."

"He did it for Edward," Rose said sharply.

"No, baby, he did it for all of us. He did it to keep the Volturi away from _all_ of us. As far as I'm concerned, he did it to keep _you_ safe for _me_ too." Emmett increased the pressure in his arms as he made his point, and Rose let her arms uncross, running her hands over his upper arms.

He shook his head and smiled weakly. "I don't have any illusions of being anyone of consequence to the Volturi. As far as they're concerned I'm just talentless muscle. I'm nothing to them... but I'm something to _you_. You know they'd kill all of us to get Alice and Edward to join them. As far as Rolle's concerned... anyone who cares that much for my family who is willing to rip my arm off in order to save all of you, I'll call him brother anytime. I'd happily pay that price and more."

Rose choked out a sound that was half sob and half laughter, sliding her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

Muffled against her husband's chest, she said, "I'm still going to give him hell for it."

Emmett pressed his face into her thick golden hair, smiling. "You wouldn't be my Rose if you didn't."

~•~

Carlisle had an uncomfortable feeling that he supposed most human parents felt when their child comes home and asks the inevitable questions of life, like _What's an orgasm?_

As predicted, Edward's face was tight with suppressed opinions of what they all obviously heard of the conversation in the hall. Edward grew even more tense, learning more about Carlisle's earlier conversation with Aro and Aro's desire to force the bond on Rolle to himself.

"How can it protect you from me?" Rolle pressed again.

When no one spoke, Aro waited a moment to see if Carlisle would answer the boy, and ignored Edward's glower as he made up his mind to answer Rolle.

"When a vampire makes another, there is a kind of bond formed between them that compels the maker to teach the younger: how to feed, how to hide, how to control their powers. The venom bond also drives the elder to protect his progeny." Aro ignored Rolle's subtle flinch at learning this, knowing the cause of it. "The feeling can be akin to possession or ownership. In most cases, this creates a sense of fondness and responsibility for the young, but it is sometimes subverted into a more cruel context, giving the maker a sense of inexcusable privilege to do what they will with the newborn."

Rolle knew too well which category he fell into.

Aro did not let him dwell on this and kept speaking since this was not the more relevant component to their discussion now. He moved further into the library and took a seat, making himself comfortable. "When we mate, it is not uncommon to bite and exchange venom with your partner, further strengthening our connection with our spouse. These are very natural events that no one ever questioned until it was discovered that the venom bond could have a much darker and nefarious use.

"When one vampire forces another to ingest large amounts of his venom, a similar bond is formed, compelling the second vampire to subjugate his own will to the first: going to great lengths to protect them, and following orders without question. The only way to free the vampire from the venom bond is to kill the one whose venom he ingested. Under normal conditions, these venom bonds are deeply frowned upon as it could be used to create blind loyalty in an army. As a consequence and to protect all vampires, the Volturi do not allow any form of coercion to exist in the formation of venom bonds. Usually, the only ones that are allowed are between mated pairs as it is highly unlikely that anyone would willingly hand over their free will to another for eternity.

"Because of the unusual circumstances regarding your lack of control over your powers, I suggested such a bond between you and Carlisle... for his own protection."

"Okay," Rolle said easily.

Carlisle frowned. "Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll do it," Rolle answered easily.

Aro snickered. _Highly unlikely, indeed._

"Rolle, stop!" Edward groaned loudly from across the room. "_Jesus_."

Rolle looked confused back at him. "What? Edward, that's been the whole point of all of this. To keep you safe."

"But you're making the same mistake you did the first time," Edward insisted. "You have no idea how to control what you can do. You have no idea how everyone around you influences you. How do you know, right now, that you aren't just saying this because it's what Aro wants?" he challenged.

"What?" Rolle's voice held a hint of fear once again.

"You. Have. No. Idea. What. You. Want." Edward dropped heavily onto the bench beside Rolle. "You're making decisions based on so little information. How do you know a venom bond won't have the complete opposite effect? What if it makes you resent Carlisle's control over you? The Romanians think you keep finding us because it allows you to feel like your own person. What if that feeling disappears? What if it makes you _want_ to leave us, but you can't and you come to hate Carlisle for that?"

Rolle looked sharply at Aro. "Could it do that?"

"Stop!" Edward shouted at him again, his frustration exploding. "Stop. Just _stop_." He took a deep breath and blew it out. Propping his elbows on his knees, he dropped his face in his hands to calm himself before leaning back again to look at his friend.

"You orchestrated all of this to save us from a threat, without knowing how deeply this place—with all its agendas and goals—would affect you. You can't separate your own thoughts from those around you and you have a power you scantly understand, let alone have the ability to control. Before you volunteer to _help_ us again, please, _please_ learn what you want first. Learn who _you_ are, what _your_ motivations are. What do _you_ want for yourself?"

Rolle was quiet a moment, taking a slow deep breath as he seriously considered Edward's words. "I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, looking up at Carlisle. "Any of you."

"Don't you think that's a good place to start?" Carlisle said.

Rolle swallowed loudly. "But what if someone comes by who wants to hurt you? How can I stop? Will I even know it isn't me? "

"Rolle, we are immortal and you need to start learning how to answer that question for yourself. " Carlisle motioned to Edward and Bella. "They'll be there to help you. We all will," he assured the young man as Esme came to Carlisle's side and wrapped her arms around her husband.

"You have to make decisions based on the _here_ and _now_," Esme told him. "You can't live asking _what if_ all the time or you'll spend eternity living in doubt."

"You have to trust us," Bella added.

"I do," Rolle said quietly. He met Bella's eyes for a moment before looking away. "But can I trust myself? What if everything I've..." Rolle's thoughts flew to Rachel and the words froze on his lips. Images flashed in his mind to that moment on the plane: the arguing teen, the couple making out nearby, Rachel's own desire. Was it all just a reflection? Was any of it him? Had he wanted to have sex with her as much as she wanted it?

Edward's hand came down on his arm, squeezing hard. Rolle's eyes came up quickly to find Edward looking at him with a larger significance than his words seemed to warrant.

"We'll just take it all one step at a time," Edward told him, tightening his fingers for a moment in silent communication.

Rolle searched his eyes for whatever else he was trying to tell him, but knew Edward did not want him to say any more right now. Rolle nodded slowly with a sigh.

Edward looked up at Carlisle and Esme. "You'll have a great teacher." Edward's voice was filled with pride and affection.

Carlisle was overwhelmed by Edward's opinion of him. In those early days with his first son, he had doubted so many things—wondered if he was doing more harm than good in his attempts to help Edward learn to understand and control his gift. There was no way to know for certain then.

Carlisle, like Rolle, had been abandoned by his own maker. No one had taught him how to survive in this existence. Unlike Rolle, however, he did not have the added burden of having a powerful and uncontrollable gift to understand.

It was then that he made another connection. Beside himself, Alice and Jasper also had been abandoned or abused by their makers. The others in his family had never had to experience that terrifying, confusing aloneness. He had broken the cycle. He was a better man than his father, and he was a better vampire than his maker.

"You don't need to be bonded to me to be part of our family, Rolle," Carlisle said. "And I don't need to be commanded to help you. If I would have known how difficult it is for you to deal with all of this, I would have offered my help long ago."

Rolle did not seem to hear the rest of Carlisle's words, looking up at him slowly as a single word resonated in his mind. "Family?"

Esme was nodding. "Is that something you'd want?" she asked, unsure what Rolle's reaction might mean.

Rolle's mouth opened, but no words came. Their generous and overwhelming offer had left him speechless.

"Well," Aro said, clapping his hands together and standing, more than willing to leave the question of _families_ to Carlisle. "I'm sure you will have many logistics to discuss." He turned to Carlisle. "Never so long again between visits, yes?"

Carlisle nodded and smiled.

"We can even use the new computer I recently had installed. Remarkable piece of technology, that, but it's not the same as meeting in person." Aro paused by the door. "I really don't know how humans do it, using only two of their senses to hold a conversation," he muttered as he left. "Minds are capable of processing five senses, after all."

~•~

Rolle slipped away from the commotion of phone calls, flight arrangements and discussions of legal documents, and returned to the bench he shared with Bella moments ago. Edward watched him walk away and gave Bella's hand a squeeze. When she looked up, he motioned toward Rolle with his eyes. She smiled with a nod. Edward kissed her hand before letting her go and walked across the library to sit with Rolle.

"I've never had any control over any of this, have I?" Rolle asked. His tone was bleak.

"I don't know," Edward answered honestly. He was quiet a moment, and confessed, "I caught glimpses of your time in Paris. I'm sorry I was paying attention, but at the time..."

Rolle shrugged, his mood dropping another notch.

"Don't discount everything you felt. Too much has happened lately. Give yourself time to process what you've learned about yourself and this ability you have. You seemed happy," Edward observed, but it held the tone of a question. "Rachel made you happy."

Rolle shrugged again. "Maybe it was just that _she_ was happy."

Edward slowly shook his head. "I don't think so." When Rolle did not respond, Edward continued. "You followed her through Paris."

"That's what I do," Rolle said heavily.

With a thoughtful humming sound, Edward shrugged. "Is it? I mean, let's look at this a moment. You knew what hotel she was at, and yet you left and waited for her along the river."

"Yeah? So?"

"So... you obviously wanted her to find you," he pointed out.

"Did I?" Rolle asked in a flat voice. "Or did she just want me?"

"She was done with you," Edward said certainly.

Rolle's face swung toward Edward sharply, glaring at his friend's harsh observation.

"Rolle, to her you were just a fling; an in-flight romance. She wasn't expecting anything more from you."

Edward's words, while sharp, also had the sting of truth. They hadn't even shared their last names on the plane. She had left the plane and left the airport. She hadn't waited for him, hadn't asked to linger with him until his next flight, and hadn't even asked him for a drink at the airport bar. She simply left.

_He_ had followed _her._ Once he knew where her hotel was, he found a place to wait for her, leaving it to her to find and approach him. He may have let her choose, but she had already said her goodbye to him in her mind. All that mattered was that it had been her choice to approach him.

Rolle's glower turned into a frown as he tried to think about what had driven him to wait in the rain for her like that. Edward listened patiently as Rolle's mind tried to tear apart every nuance of the world around him, searching for anything that could have motivated him to seek Rachel out again after they left the airport.

"I don't think she was influencing you to find her, Rolle," Edward said gently. "I think, maybe, _you_ needed her to find you." When Rolle's mind instantly spun into guilt over Gillian, it was Edward's turn to frown.

"I have a confession to make to you, Rolle," he said slowly. "A few months after you met Bella, I left her."

Rolle's eyes were wide and angry in disbelief. "You... left?" Edward nodded and met Rolle's hard eyes. "You found her. You knew what she was to you. I told you how losing her would ruin you."

"I know," Edward confessed. "And it did."

"Did you..." Rolle growled, trying to get a grip on his anger. "Did you need _proof?_ Did you need to rip reality from your mind to see how much it would crush you?"

Shaking his head, Edward said, "Despite your warning to me, or maybe because of it, I left her to keep her safe from what we are. I knew if anything happened to her because of me, or our world, I couldn't... wouldn't..."

Rolle huffed sharply, but knew what Edward had gone through. "I know," Rolle whispered.

"You told me to not make the same mistakes you've made," Edward said quietly. "So I'm going to do the same for you." He met Rolle's gaze. "Don't make the same mistakes I've made. Don't be so quick to do what you think might be the right thing. Don't take that choice away from Rachel. Don't walk away."

Rolle sighed and leaned back on the bench shaking his head. "I don't know, Edward. I mean, look at me. Look at the mess I've made. I feel like I'm waking up in a world I don't understand. I can't even trust my own thoughts."

"So tell her," Edward said, low and insistent. "Tell her about Gillian. Tell her what it did to you. Tell her what you're dealing with, but leave that choice to _her._ Rolle," he turned to face his friend, "you know how important it is to be equals in a relationship. If there's a choice, don't take it away from her."

"What will it matter in the end? She doesn't know what I am." He had never confessed to her that he was a demon, or a murderer, and even in his most lucid moments, he could never admit to her that he was a vampire.

_Edward!_ Carlisle and Esme's warnings came to Edward at the same time.

_Say it, _came Bella's quiet and sure thoughts in a swell of love so large that Edward let it wash over him like a tidal wave.

She had been listening. Edward's earnest words made her eyes prickle with unshed tears. Several months after their wedding they had talked about that time in their relationship. They talked, tore their hearts out, yelled, cried and healed together at long last. The hurt from that time had disappeared long ago, but the memory of it would trickle to the surface now and again, always in gentle teasing or reminders. She _had_ forgiven him, and from this moment on, she would never bring it up again. She knew without hesitation that Edward truly did understand.

_Say it, Edward,_ Bella's voice said again in his mind.

He glanced at her, letting her love consume him, and looked back at Rolle.

"Tell her everything."

Rolle regarded Edward in silence as he considered his friend's words when a soft buzz distracted them and Esme pulled her out her phone. She glanced at it and made a few motions over the tiny screen.

"Our flight is confirmed. We have three hours to get back to Pisa," she told the others.

"Not soon enough for me," Bella muttered, standing and straightening her sweater.

"There's a car in the courtyard," Rolle said.

Carlisle looked surprised. "There is? How do you...?" He shook his head. "Never mind."

"I need to speak to Marcus before we leave," Rolle said. It wasn't a question and he wasn't asking for permission, but he wanted Carlisle to know it was important to him.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Carlisle offered.

Rolle shook his head. "It's just something I need to know."

Carlisle could easily imagine what that was and nodded. "Will you be long?"

"No," he answered softly. "I'll meet you in the courtyard."

~•~

Marcus looked up and found Rolle standing in the long stone corridor looking as if he had been waiting there for him. Marcus waited for a sensation that he hoped would feel like panic to be faced with the unstable assassin. They were alone. He, himself, had created the monster before him and had ripped him to pieces to create the being that would put him out of his desperate misery after his beloved wife's death.

Unfortunately, the sense of panic never appeared, but neither did he feel relieved resignation in facing his death.

Marcus looked around, wondering if Bella was nearby, shielding Rolle's mind. When he realized she was not, Marcus understood. "You knew I'd be here."

Rolle lowered his eyes, but did not answer verbally. The motion was enough of an answer to Marcus.

_Such a remarkable tracker_, Marcus thought, unable to suppress the weak sense of pride he felt in his progeny.

Rolle looked at him from lowered eyes. "You wanted me once. That's why you killed me the first time."

It wasn't a question, but Marcus understood what the boy was asking. "Yes," he answered simply.

Rolle had always suspected as much, but it made a difference to him to know it for a fact. "And then your wife died and you wanted me to kill _you_."

"Yes." Marcus' voice was so low that the answer sounded more like a raw scraping of his vocal chords.

Rolle looked at the floor as he bobbed his head. The motion was nothing more than an acknowledgement of everything he had always known, but he needed to hear it himself from his creator. He turned slowly and walked away. Marcus was completely still as he watched Rolle leave. The echoing stone corridor was utterly silent. Not even Rolle's footfalls made any sound.

Pausing several feet down the hall, Rolle turned his head in profile, as if he were speaking into his shoulder. "Do you still want me to kill you?" It was more than a question. It was an offer.

The simple question startled Marcus that he actually took a breath to answer, but the words would not form on his tongue. A week ago, the answer would have been so simple, but now, nothing was simple. Caius was gone. The Volturi were weak. What did it mean that he cared? _Did_ he care? What did it mean that he couldn't answer?

Rolle seemed to know, though, because he nodded again.

_Of course, he knows,_ Marcus thought.

"I'll never ask you that question again," Rolle said quietly, still not looking at Marcus. He waited as if he expected Marcus to say something more, or maybe he was just waiting for the meaning to sink in, and then he walked away and disappeared around the corner.

For a long time, Marcus watched the spot where Rolle had rounded the corner and gone. When he changed Rolle after watching him hunt and murder a man under a filthy bridge, it seemed perversely Italian to trap the boy in that moment of empty anguish of a vendetta that had played itself out. Never having experienced the loss of one's lover at the time though, Marcus had not considered the larger consequences of his actions. They were more alike than he had ever considered before: both their mates had been murdered, both were bereft without their lovers, and both were trapped by their obligations.

It was bitter irony that their presence was demanded to preserve a society of murderers.

~•~

The Piazza d'Armi was quiet in the mid-afternoon sun. The dark sedan parked there was silent. The castle itself was quiet. The four vampires that stood waiting by the car were equally as still. After the events of the past twenty-four hours, the reverberating sound of _nothing_ created its own kind of anxiety.

The area was splashed with prisms across every surface, splotching even the brick walls with spectrums of color. Edward looked up across the piazza and a series of the prisms spun quickly, creating the only sense of movement in the entire courtyard. The tenor of Rolle's thoughts directed Edward's eyes to the door where he knew Rolle would exit. The heavy wooden door swung open as easily as a screen door and Rolle did not close it behind him. He looked at the Cullens gathered by the car and walked to them.

Wind lifted dust over the battlements of the castle, but not even birds flew over the ancient structure. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of the city going about its business of life and living. Rolle felt the familiar surge of impulses against his mind and swallowed, shuddering. For the first time, he questioned the knowledge behind these impulses and he kept his eyes on the car, trying to ignore everything around him. He wasn't even sure if his desire to get in the car and get out of Volterra was his own or the Cullen's.

Suddenly, the pressure of impulse was gone and he knew Bella was shielding him. Though everything was silent to his ears, another kind of silence wrapped around him.

He still wanted to get in the car and leave.

_That_ was what he wanted. That was his own need, but he couldn't sense how this one remaining thought was different from all the others. Fear feathered across his mind as he considered the possibility that he might never be able to tell the difference, and then he saw Bella give him a reassuring smile.

He unclenched his tensed hands, spreading his fingers wide and shaking the tension from his hands. As he continued toward the Cullens, his eyes drifted up to the gaping wound in the castle's wall. No one stood in the opening. He could see the white ceiling of the chamber within.

With a nod, Rolle stopped in front of Carlisle, who reached out and patted his shoulder before guiding him into the backseat of the car. Rolle sat in the middle of the long seat next to Esme. Carlisle followed him in as Edward and Bella took the front seats. Edward started the car and drove across the piazza to the enormous wood and iron door of the porta.

The door did not move. No one came out to open the gate for them. He put the car in neutral and climbed out with a glance around before pushing it open easily, then went back to the car to drive it through the narrow stone passage.

He did not stop on the other side. Following Rolle's example, Edward left the outer gate breached.

No one would be foolish enough to go in. No one inside would come out, at least not until the sun went down.

It wasn't intended as a message of any kind. It wasn't a sign of disrespect or meant to be a challenge of authority. Edward simply wanted to take Bella as far from this place as he possibly could. He curled his hand around hers as the city and castle fell from view.

Edward glanced at Rolle through the rearview mirror and considered his new brother. He knew that the road to recovery, if there could be recovery at all, would be long and hard for Rolle. No one had any idea what a successful recovery would even look like for a man who could not trust his own mind and motivations, but he knew Carlisle would not give up trying, either. Carlisle may have temporarily lost his faith in humanity, but he would never lose faith in his family and together, as a family, they would endure.

**~ The End ~**

_"Thus I began my new life, in a new name, and with everything new about me.  
__Now that the state of doubt was over, I felt, for many days, like one in a  
dream ... The two things clearest in my mind were, that a remoteness had come  
upon the old ... life — which seemed to lie in the haze of an immeasurable  
distance; and that a curtain had for ever fallen on my life ... No one has ever  
raised that curtain since. I have lifted it for a moment, even in this narrative,  
with a reluctant hand, and dropped it gladly. The remembrance of that life is  
fraught with so much pain to me, with so much mental suffering and want  
of hope, that I have never had the courage to even examine how long I was  
doomed to lead it. Whether it lasted for a year, or more, or less, I do not know.  
I only know that it was, and ceased to be; and that I have written, and there I leave it."_

_David Copperfield_  
By Charles Dickens

* * *

**A/N: **Love and thanks to my beloved and loving peanut gallery: **Irishgirl****, LolaShoes, ****Songster ****and ****Emmanuelle Nathan**. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for her super-awesome posting of my chapters.

I especially want to give a special thanks to you readers who also review. It has meant the world to me that your reviews have been so intelligent and insightful. For those of you who have fallen in love with Rolle, I have a special thank-you treat: an epilogue that is coming very soon.

**AUTHOR NOTE UPDATE:** This story, and it's predecessor Antithesis are up for several awards in multiple categories. Even if you don't for it, you should check out the nominated entries. The Avant Garde voting is here bit (dot) ly/aon921 and ends on Dec. 4th, 2010 and the Original Character Awards are here bit (dot) ly/go5FfR ending on Dec. 14th, 2010.


	22. Chapter 22 Epilogue

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to some chick in the mirror that makes faces at me when I peek.**

Check out my blog for updates: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

**A/N:** It's been a long hard road, and it's shocking to think I started writing this a year ago. I look back on everything that has happened this year and I find myself totally intimidated. Happiness and sorrow, successes and failures. Through it all, the best has risen above it: the friends I have made.

**Irishgirl**, a Michigander who has always been there for me, letting me rant, letting me bounce ideas off her, letting me vent RL and Fandom frustrations.

**Emmanuelle Nathan, **my newest friend and previewer whose boundless enthusiasm and relentless optimism helped me get through these last few, and hardest, chapters of the story simply because I did not want to disappoint her.

**Philadelphic**, another Michigander who has been my secret keeper as I have been hers. We've whispered plot bunnies to each other, snickering and shocking each other with our ohmygodyouareNOTgoingtodothat moments. All over a very polite cup of coffee or falafel.

**Songster**, whom I only "met" in January, and became a wonderful, snarky, insightful, diligent, and loyal friend through one of the worst fanwank experiences of my fannish life. She's my Usul, the strength of the base of the pillar. (Yeah, _Dune_ reference)

**LolaShoes**, whose stories gave me proof that there was a love worth sacrificing everything for, and so Rolle's quest was born. She's been a friend, and a supporter, and secretly given more into this story that anyone will ever know. It all started out as a bit of lark, catering to a giggling whim, and grew into something more, better, sweeter.

And to you readers who review with such insight and heartfelt appreciation... you have left me speechless. I don't have many reviews, but those that I have are not sparse of words or wanly glowing. You have not reviewed simply to see a review counter go up. You reviewed because you were truly touched and wanted me to know. I have replied to all of you. All of you. My replies are never copied and pasted. Each of you has a part of me, just as I have a part of your and your expressions of fondness. Lola once made the comment, "You don't have a _lot_ of review, but you have really intelligent reviews." For that, I lower my head in thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Epilogue**

Her phone vibrated, alerting her to a text message. She glanced at it and frowned at the blunt message. _'where r u?'_ Rachel didn't recognize the number and turned her attention back to the meeting. It buzzed again ten minutes later. _'did I copy the wrong number?'_

She pulled the phone closer and replied,_ 'who is this?'_

_'from paris'_ was the cryptic reply.

She stared at the phone, her mouth going dry. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to be trying to reach her racing heart. She looked up, not seeing or hearing the meeting any more as her mind spun in a million directions at once. She looked at the phone again and tried to type a reply. Her fingers were shaking and it took several attempts to type the few letters, and then she couldn't find the question mark even though it was right in front of her.

_'rolle?'_

A smiley emoticon was the reply.

Rachel stood up and left the meeting, leaving her other things behind, hoping her colleagues would think she was simply going to the bathroom. She exited the room and moved down the hall.

The phone replayed the earlier request. _ 'where r u?'_

She shook her head at the notion that Rolle was texting her, glad that she hadn't smashed his phone in Paris as she had wanted to. She quickly replied, _'san francisco conference'_

His message came back too fast, as if he'd already typed it and was waiting to hit send. _ 'can i c u?'_

She smiled at the phone, almost giddy. _ 'y'_

_'pier39 at the bronze seals'_

_'when?'_

_'tonight 6?'_

Rachel put her hand over her mouth, not really believing what she was seeing. She typed a single _'y' _and pressed send. As soon as she sent that, she typed another message to him, not wanting to let herself believe what she suspected.

_'r u here?'_

The smiley emoticon reappeared, followed by a second text with _:* _which made her laugh out loud. She jumped on the balls of her feet in a happy little dance before she remembered where she was and fought down her smile, failing miserably.

~•~

Rachel pulled out her phone and clicked on her text messages again with a thrill of anticipation, scrolling over the message for the hundredth time. The rest of the afternoon was wasted for her. She barely heard a word anyone said during the presentations. She couldn't even remember the name of the other scientist she had been introduced to from her alma mater. Her leg began bouncing impatiently again as she looked up from her phone. She had to force herself not to huff at the cab driver and the slow crawl of San Francisco rush hour traffic. The trip from the Moscone Center was too far to walk, but at this rate, she wondered if she couldn't have made better time on foot.

By ten past the hour, she was beginning to get angry though. What if he left? What if he thought she changed her mind? What if he thought she was waiting at the wrong place?

When she suddenly remembered her phone, she wanted to slap herself on the head. She smiled down at the message again when it reappeared, her fingers lightly touching the words on the screen, then quickly typed out,_ 'don't leave! stuck in traffic'_

_'not going anywhere' _appeared in their text window. Rachel quickly added the number to her contact list, adding Rolle's name there beside it. When she went back to look at her text messages again, his name appeared next to all of his responses. A smile melted across her face and she read over the entire conversation again.

~•~

When the cab pulled onto Embarcadero, she leaned over in her seat to look up the sidewalk, but there were too many tourists. She snapped impatiently at the cab driver to just let her out, then sheepishly gave him a large tip for putting up with her and offered him a weak smile in apology. In her hurry to get out of the door, she snagged her purse strap on the handle and was jerked backwards as she tried to close the door.

"Sorry, sorry," she huffed absently, taking a deep breath to calm herself down, and methodically worked the strap free from the door. She closed it slowly and securely before moving deeper onto the sidewalk, being overly deliberate about each step. She closed her eyes and tried to count to ten, but gave up after three, scanning the sidewalk for Rolle. She was still half a block away from where they were supposed to meet. Unable to stop herself, she covered the distance in something between a quick walk and a slow jog, cursing her beloved heels for the very first time. The statue of the bronze seals slowly came into view.

He was there sitting on the base of the statue. His eyes were closed in an expression of deep concentration. She stopped twenty feet away and just stared at him. He looked as beautiful as she remembered. Though the clouds were thick in the sky, his pale hair seemed to glow around his head. He wore a dark blue long-sleeved t-shirt and gray jeans. Before she could take another step, his head turned in her direction. When he opened his eyes, he was looking directly at her. As recognition lit his eyes, she felt herself smile and closed the distance to him in a dead run; heels be damned.

He laughed as she hit him, then squawked "Whoops!" as his feet backed into the statue, toppling them backward. He miraculously caught himself against the statue's base, sitting with a thud, and never letting her go. The entire stunt brought her onto his lap with their arms entwined around each other, laughing the entire time. They tried to kiss through their smiles, which was almost impossible and made them laugh even more.

Still trying to manage an honest kiss, Rolle tried to tease her, "Do I have to _ask_ you to kiss..." but he was cut off as two things happened at once. He lowered a hand to her waist, the other pressed to the small of her back, and Rachel pulled her arms down to run her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. Their eyes met stone cold sober at the shift. As if a gate had been thrown open, the laughter died from them both and hunger consumed them in a torrent. Suddenly, nothing was funny and they couldn't kiss deeply enough; their hands could not pull the other close enough.

She knew when he left Paris that there was something between them. She couldn't explain how she knew, but there was something new in his perpetually sad eyes. It might have been the sweetness of his kiss goodbye, his lips lingering longer than expected. It could have been his tenuous glance, hesitant and filled with doleful confusion. Maybe it was the tension in his neck and shoulders that gave away his desire to turn and look at her as the train pulled away. The way he kissed her now was altogether different. Whatever the amorphous fleeting thing was she had sensed from him on the train platform in Paris was here now, stronger and more animated. Whatever it was, she wanted it. By the taste of his searching tongue, he wanted it to. She felt heavy and warm. Rachel heard herself groan and thought he'd put an end to this exquisite torture. When he groaned low, she knew he couldn't.

It was a seagull that reminded her where they were.

"No, no, no..." she murmured through their kiss, moving her hands to his chest in an attempt to slow down whatever this was. She pushed him gently away and tried to sit back to put some distance between them. Rolle's lips followed her, trying to stay in contact by craning his neck toward her even as he allowed her to push him back. "Rolle," she gasped sharply, closing her eyes with a wry grin as she panted, shaking her head. She ran her trembling hand over his cheek, trying to catch her breath, panting as if she had run a marathon.

He smiled and ducked his eyes, embarrassed. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't ever be sorry for _that_," she chuckled, still catching her breath. "It's just... the location."

When he looked up, the hunger was safely secured. He looked like his old soulful self again, his somber eyes touched with happiness to see her.

Rachel smiled again and threw her arms back around his neck, rocking him playfully. "I'm so glad to see you!" she laughed again. She stood up and pulled him with her. "What are you doing in San Francisco?"

He started to say something, then stopped to try again, and stopped again. "Ask me again later," he said hesitantly.

Rachel frowned, losing part of her smile. "Oh-kay." She remembered the one part of their time in Paris that she had wanted to forget. He had been just as withholding of information then, too. She didn't like that about him, but at least he didn't shut her down entirely, she told herself. He had left it open for later discussion, so she decided to let it go — for now anyway.

"How long are you here?" she asked instead.

"Definitely today," he answered quickly, trying to make up for his lack of response earlier. "Maybe longer." He took her hand and began walking along the sidewalk.

"What about that job? The thing in Italy?" she asked, pulling his upper arm close and holding it to her.

Rolle looked out across the bay. "It wasn't a good fit," he said and she could tell by his tone there was more to it, but did not press him about it. He was here with her now, after all.

Rolle noticed her shiver. "You know better than to come down here without a jacket," he scolded, pulling her close, trying to rub some warmth into her with cold hands.

"Conference, remember?" she justified. "My evening plans involved room service and HBO, not sightseeing."

"Come on," he said, adamantly directing her to the nearest open air vendor.

Rachel tugged a new fleece jacket over her shoulders, smiling shyly at Rolle who was passing over several bills to the shopkeeper. She couldn't say so, but she was secretly delighted at his care and concern for her.

He continued that very same vigilance by grasping the hem of the fleece and working the zipper together, tugging it up slowly.

"Better?" he asked.

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him lightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispered.

He lightly took her by her elbow, turned, and led her back down the street to the sound of gulls overhead and seals in the bay. The Embarcadero held the usual complement of tourists and buskers. Rolle stopped walking suddenly in the center of the sidewalk and held Rachel back. She turned to look at him, confused and he tipped his head toward the sidewalk ahead of them. She turned to look at what he indicated seeing nothing but pedestrians. Suddenly, a busker disguised as a trashcan leapt from its place at a tight group of teenaged girls. All five of them squealed in surprise and bunny hopped five feet away, scattering away from the attacking waste receptacle. People who had been watching the innocuous can dropped money into a nearby hat, still laughing.

Rachel laughed and hugged Rolle's arm. "My hero," she teased. "Protecting me from the horrors in the world." Rolle smiled but her teasing did not get the laugh from him that she hoped for.

They continued on toward Pier 41 turning into the large plaza where the sightseeing tours sold tickets for the many ferries along the wharf and tourist trips. They walked by a sandwich board advertising tours for the aquarium, the Ayala Cove, Muir Woods, as well as ferry service to Alcatraz and Angel Island.

"Have you been to Alcatraz?" he asked her holding hand as they walked past _Blue and Gold's_ ticket booth.

"When I was seven," she laughed, covering her face, embarrassed. "I almost passed out in the isolation chamber."

Rolle laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. "It was a heck of a lot smaller than I pictured, and nothing like the movie. Would you want to see it again, or should we keep sightseeing? We could just walk down to Ghirardelli's, or go over to Golden Gate Park." He smiled at her. "Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" she asked, stopping to face him.

His smile grew and put his hands on her hips. "I have seen that look before," he grinned knowingly. "Yes, whatever you want."

"In that case," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I want to do something you've never done before."

Rolle laughed suddenly and she knew by the sound that he was truly amused. It was a full and easy laugh, one she did not hear from him often enough. "Oh, honey, there's a lot I've never done before. I'm not a land creature. We could do anything here and it would all be new to me."

She swallowed heavily, trying to control her expression, knowing it was useless anyway with him. "I want... " she started, looking over his shoulder at the sky line. "I want..." She sighed unable to decide on one thing she wanted to do with him. She wanted to do everything. "I want to watch the sunset and make out like teenagers." She turned to him and laughed a relieved, happy sound.

Rolle's expression became thoughtfully amused and without further hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to the curb waving his free hand for a taxi. Rachel looked at him startled by his sudden decision, but Rolle only smiled back at her before handing her into the car.

"Marin Headlands," he ordered the cab driver as he slid in next to her. "That was easy," decisive Rolle said, very pleased with himself.

"I guess so," Rachel laughed back at him.

He wrapped her arm through his and grasped her fingers again as the cab wended its way down the boulevard, passing tourists and shoppers along both sides of the street. They drove through the Marina district and eventually made their way onto the highway. The evening traffic was getting lighter along the bridge, and the view was spectacular as a glowing white mass behind the clouds started its slow dive toward the horizon.

Rachel leaned her head on Rolle's shoulder with a sigh watching the sporadic fog begin to dapple the mouth of the bay. She may have looked like she was considering the view, when in fact all of her attention was attuned to his body next to hers, his arm around her, his fingers caressing hers.

"It's pretty, isn't it," he whispered to her. "I've always loved the ocean."

Rachel hummed in agreement just enjoying this time with him more than anything else. She stifled a shudder when he pressed a kiss to her hair then began nuzzling the crown of her head.

As soon as they were over the bridge, the cab pulled off the highway and into the main entrance to the headlands. Rolle directed the cabby to take them up to the bunkers. The drive to the top was slower as the cab moved along the winding road, slowing to pass bikers, joggers and other cars pulled to the shoulder for the scenic lookouts.

The cab continued upward around several more hairpin turns until the remains of the fort were in sight. They heard the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels as the driver pulled off the pavement and came to a stop. The wind blew in sporadic gusts through the grasses and scrub oaks.

Rolle paid the driver and climbed out, holding out his hand to help Rachel out behind him.

His old-world gesture was not lost on her. "Such a gentleman," she said, her tone carefully balanced between gratitude, appreciation, and teasing.

Sensing that he wanted to wait until they were settled somewhere before talking, they wandered the ruins of the old World War II fort. The headlands were magnificent. The twisted weave of rocks were rust-colored with stripes of algae green through them. Wildflowers bloomed in a variety of colors, dappling the rolling hills, which were broken in turn with stark concrete structures built low to the ground. Ominous gun windows were slotted through the structures as a reminder of the readiness for war.

The ocean spread out before them, San Francisco sparkled behind. An army base nestled deep in a valley in the distance. Rows and rows of barracks were stacked next to each other.

They wandered through the cement buildings and peeked into a few bunkers. Those that were easily accessible, looked like they were well used by partying teens or vagrants, or both, filled with debris or smelling heavily of urine.

Rolle helped her over a crumbling wall to get closer to the edge of the cliff. With a smile, he pointed out the lighthouse at the mouth of the harbor. A heavy fog bank was building up just outside the bay. Rachel's gaze traveled down the length of his arm, following his finger out to the white structure perched on the rocks far in the distance. Pelicans peppered the sky.

Rachel glanced up at him, she found Rolle looking back at her. She couldn't resist herself. Leaning into him, she kissed him lightly. His eyes closed as the kiss began to bloom into something more. She sucked his lower lip between hers and startled when voices shouted nearby. They turned to look at the source. Two parents were trying to herd their five children back to the van. Two of the youngsters were already climbing over the fallen wall that Rolle and Rachel had gone over.

Rolle scanned around them finding too many visitors to his liking. He looked back at Rachel. "Will you trust me?" he suddenly asked.

Her brow furrowed. "Of course. Why?"

Rolle slowly bobbed his head back and forth a few times as if trying to find a diplomatic answer. "I know a place close by that has a bit more privacy, but it's kinda hard to reach it."

"Where is it?" Rachel asked. Rolle hesitated again, and Rachel shook her head sharply, not wanting his evasiveness to ruin the mood. "Fine. Yes, I trust you. Just do whatever you have to do."

Rolle's smile took on an unfamiliar, devilish quaility. "That's my girl," he said, and took her by her hand again.

Rachel found herself repeating his words: my girl, _my_ girl. She was so flustered by what he said, that she stopped paying attention to what he was doing.

He had led them closer to the cliff and urged her to climb piggyback onto him. With a glance around to make sure they weren't seen, he muttered, "Hold on," and jumped down easily a couple feet onto a low outcropping of stone. From there, the word 'easy' could no longer be applied.

With a last glance back, Rolle clutched the stone face with his fingers and swung them out over the side of the cliff.

"Oh, shit! Rolle!" Rachel gasped, clutching him tightly around the neck and hooking her ankles around his hips.

"It's okay," he said softly. There was no strain in his voice as he nimbly made his way down the cliff. "Don't look." He moved out another few feet. "Trust me."

Rachel began to worry she was choking him, but everything about what was happening seemed easy to him; too easy. He moved along the steep rock as if he were walking on a flat surface, gripping tiny crevices with his fingertips like he was holding an egg. He made it look effortless. 'Strong' and 'free-climber' were added to her list of things she knew about Rolle Tylor.

She peered up and calculated that they had descended about twenty feet when Rolle's body moved oddly. She clutched tighter and heard a sharp kick and splintering of wood. She felt Rolle's body jerk slightly again and with one last kick there was a muffled crashing sound. In a single motion they were standing in a small bunker.

"It's okay now," he told her, running his hand over her arm that she had clenched around his neck.

Rachel released him and looked around. The space was barely as big as a walk-in closet. A splintered panel of plywood lay newly broken on the dusty cement floor. The walls were carved directly from the rock and were jagged. The very back of the room had a heavy metal door. Bare copper wire ran through a hole that was drilled through the rock.

"What is this?" she asked as Rolle tossed out the splintered remains of the wood that had boarded up the opening.

"It's a spotter's turret," he explained. "During a battle, the spotter would be able to radio back the adjustments in artillery fire."

"How did you know it was here?" she asked.

Rolle looked around and shrugged. If she didn't know better, Rachel would have thought he was being evasive again, but there was something in the innocent confusion in his expression that stopped her from accusing him.

"So why are we here?" she asked.

"To watch the sunset," he reminded her. "I don't think you can get better seats than this."

She turned to look out the opening and he did have a point. The view was utterly spectacular. With nothing but the ocean before them and yet so far below, it almost felt like they were flying, hovering on the updraft like the gulls that hung stationary in the sky with only the slightest variations in motion.

"Balcony seats?" she observed wryly.

He reached for her. "Only the best," he answered quietly, pulling her gently to him.

Rachel let him guide her toward him. She raised her hands, letting her fingers drift slowly over the planes and contours of his shoulders and chest. Rolle's smile faded slightly at the touch, his eyes going unfocused when she stepped closer.

"You said something about making out like teenagers," Rolle breathed, his hands resting at her waist.

She smiled with all of herself, sliding her hands slowly up his chest before lacing her fingers around the back of his neck. "Mmm, I did."

She nuzzled her nose against his neck, placing small kisses there and looked at him expectantly. He answered her unspoken question with action, lightly touching his lips to hers in a kiss as shy and chaste as a teenager's then paused to let his breath kiss her lips. He looked at her once again with contentment and a twinkle of surprise in his eyes, and kissed her tenderly as she pressed her body into his, letting the kiss deepen.

Rolle dragged his hands over her waist, his thumb finding a small opening at the hem of her blouse that had pulled up from her slacks when she locked her hands around him. She gasped into his kiss when his thumb slid into her shirt just below her navel. She pressed her hips into his hoping his hand would stray farther as she touched the tip of her tongue to his bottom lip. When he did not reciprocate, she dragged her tongue along the soft cool skin and massaged it between hers. He relented with a soft groan as his tongue slid along hers.

His fingers lightly rested against the outside curve of her breast, definitely a brazen move for a teenaged make-out session. When his thumb stroked over her nipple accidentally on purpose, she changed teenaged make-out to college dorm room. She slanted her mouth over his letting him know she wouldn't stop him this time. She pressed her breast into his hand with a soft whimper. He fully palmed her, kneading and lifting her. Rachel squeezed her thighs together aware of her growing arousal.

"Rolle," she breathed into his kissing mouth, now beginning to squirm with her need for him.

"We're missing it," he said against her lips.

Rachel broke the kiss, but did not move far. "What?"

"The sunset," he whispered, kissing her lightly. "We're missing it." A smile played around his lips.

Caught up in the delicious caressing of his fingers, she glanced over her shoulder at the sunset. "Mmm, beautiful," she murmured, pressing her breast into his fingers.

Her purr turned into a plaintive pout when he moved his hand and turned her to face the sunset, wrapping his arms around her. While she did not want to complain about him holding her, she felt it was definitely a step backward from where they were going a moment ago.

Still, the sunset was beautiful. The sun had sunk behind the fog, but a break in the clouds overhead lit the horizon with oranges, yellows, pinks, purples and blues. When Rolle turned his attention to her neck and his hand moved across her stomach to rest in the outline of her breast, Rachel lost all interest in sunsets. When he sucked her earlobe between his lips then flicked his tongue into her ear, she wasn't even interested in the fact that they were in California. She wanted more of those lips and turned in his arms. She kissed him tenderly, molding her lips around his.

It was like a dream. Since their time together in Paris, there hadn't been a day to pass that Rachel hadn't thought of him. She thought about what she would do if they accidentally ran into one another. She thought about what she would say if, on that hypothetical day, she found that he was married. She had even Googled his name, which led to a thirty-five minute tutorial on Google of how to do a proper search, only to find millions of entries for that name and enormous varieties of spellings. She gave up the search when she realized it didn't matter. Rolle would be her secret smile when she was old and gray. He would be her dream lover, and _had_ been on several occasions already! He would always be her secret night in Paris.

She never once thought he would be the one searching for her. She never thought there was the possibility that he felt the same. She wondered if he Googled her name, too. She wondered how he found out she was in San Francisco.

She didn't really care. He was here now. _He_ had found _her_.

"I can't believe you're here," she whispered. There was something she wanted to tell him and she didn't want to think about it too much before she did. She rubbed her nose along his and pressed her forehead to his brow. "I think I'm falling in..."

He stopped her, pressing his fingers over her lips. "Wait," he breathed. He closed his eyes and shook his head in a tiny gesture as if he were trying to convince himself of an argument.

He took a deep breath. "Before you say anything, I need you to know..." He broke off with a flinch and a pained gasp. Closing his eyes, he took two slow breaths as Carlisle had instructed him, to help him keep control of his mind and thoughts, to know his own motivations before opening himself to those of other's. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration.

"Rolle?" Rachel watched him with concern.

"I'm okay," he said in a strained voice. "I need," Rolle tried again slowly, "to tell you some things."

"What kind of things?" she asked quietly against his fingers, her voice almost lost in the sounds of the waves bouncing around the small space.

Rolle moved his hand from her lips, over the contour of her cheek, then down her arm and gripped her hand. He sighed, still struggling with his own broken nature in order to tell her about Gillian. He repeated 'This is about Rachel, it's about Rachel' in his mind, forcing himself to focus.

"Things... about me." He looked down at the fingers he held. "I haven't been close to anyone in a long time," he began, taking a deep uneasy breath. "There was someone..." His voice broke and he stopped. His chin quivered and he clenched his jaw tightly to find his self-control. "She was everything to me," he was finally able to say though his voice was deeper with the emotions he was fighting. "We were only together five years when she was murdered."

His confession horrified her. Of all the things she expected him to say, this was the farthest from her mind. She thought back over her time with him: his behavior, his distance... so many things made sense now. Part of her wanted to comfort him, to apologize for his loss; another part of her knew it would do no good. Her distress for him slowly gave way to embarrassment. She had almost confessed she was falling in love with him. Confusion and doubt crawled into her mind. Why had he brought her here? Why had he searched her out? Why had he kissed her and held her the way he had only a moment ago?

"I had a... I guess you'd call it a mental breakdown when she died." Rolle raised his eyes and there was an apology in his gaze when he could finally meet hers. "I'm still a mess. I'm only realizing exactly how much of a mess I still am." He smiled weakly but there was nothing in it but sadness. "You might decide I'm not worth it, and I can't promise anything other than I know it's going to be hard."

Rachel folded her lips between her teeth, biting them as if it could keep her from crying for him.

"Please say something," he whispered earnestly.

Rachel drew a deep breath through her nose and held it a moment before releasing her lips. "I'm sorry," was all she could manage.

For an instant, Rolle looked crestfallen. He pulled on a feeble understanding smile for her. "Don't be."

"I can't imagine what you've been through, the pain and loss," she continued, lying to him now. She understood the pain and loss. She was feeling it right now and it was making her sick to her stomach.

Rolle started nodding as she had begun speaking, trying to make it easier for her. "It's okay. That's okay," he muttered. "I know it's asking a lot. I don't... It's fine," he said trying to sound stronger. "Getting to know someone is hard enough without that much history to deal with."

Rachel looked nonplussed. "What?" His words were confusing her. She didn't understand what he was asking of her.

"What you gave me?" he tried to explain. "That moment of peace? It's been a stolen moment of happiness in hell, like a gasp of air to a drowning man. I never thought I'd have that ever again." There was sad wonder in his eyes, but he knew what his reality was and it was unfair to expect her to want that much hardship when she could find someone who would be easier to love.

Rolle ran a hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head. "You made me feel things I thought I'd never have again." He closed his eyes, his mouth turning into a frown. His voice was thick with emotion again. "You were the hand that reached out to me from the dark, and I will _always_ be grateful for that. For the first time in a long time, I felt connected to somebody."

Rachel's confusion grew with every word. It was the strangest break-up she'd ever heard of. Why did he feel so much pain over it? If anyone had a right to be hurt, it was her.

She looked out at the sunset fading to pale blues and grays now, and looked around the tiny secluded place he'd brought her. She thought about his tender care for her comfort, the fact that he found her when he could have simply forgotten about their entire affair. She remembered his hurt and disappointment when she had asked him if they were simply having a one-night stand. Rachel turned back and looked at Rolle, so forlorn and dejected, as if _she_ was the one pushing him away.

"Rolle," she said softly, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, there was so much sorrow in his eyes that she felt a flicker of hope. She bit her lip for being weak and allowing herself to cling to it. "Why did you bring me here?"

He made a sound that could have been a sob or chuckle. She had a feeling it was both.

"A fool's hope," he answered with naked honesty, trying to keep her gaze like a man, but only partially succeeding. "I wanted you to say that none of it mattered after I told you everything, that it would all be worth it. And I'd make love to you right here between our worlds."

The spark of hope flared painfully, scorching her heart with its flames. "You think I'm saying you're not worth it?" she whispered astounded.

Now it was Rolle's turn to look confused. With a sudden surge of confidence, Rachel felt certain now that she understood why he was confused.

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing her lips to his. "It's worth it," she insisted through the kiss. She tipped her head the other way kissing him again, and again. "It _is_ worth it!" she repeated when he barely responded to her.

Though it took a long moment for her words to sink in, when they did his entire body responded to them. His arms flew around her and he returned her kisses with abandon, sinking to his knees and bringing her down with him onto the dusty floor.

Rachel held his face in her hands kissing his cheeks before Rolle dropped his head onto her shoulder and pulled her against his body.

"That's one," he sighed.

"One what?" she asked, pressing her lips to his neck.

Rolle shook his head and squeezed her tighter. "Not yet. I just... I just need this for a minute." He held her, unmoving, as if he were memorizing the shape and feel of her body in his arms.

Rachel combed her fingers through his hair, pressing her nose against him. The wind shifted and blew the cold and damp toward them as the sound of slapping waves below them grew louder. Though his body was as cool as ever and she was getting chilled, she still curled herself closer to him.

He sighed again and sat back enough to kiss her sweetly. His lips lingered against hers, savoring her as if she were a rare wine. Rolle raised his hand to their touching lips as if the touch could help him memorize it.

Her eyes smiled into his when they pulled back. "So you didn't come to San Francisco to find me and break up with me?" she asked timidly, her fingers toying with the shoulder seam of this t-shirt.

Rubbing his nose against hers, Rolle snorted softly and shook his head. "Just the opposite," he said, meeting her gaze steady now. "I wanted to see you," he admitted. His expression was earnest and honest. "Part of me knows I should stay away from you. Part of me wants to warn you away, to keep you safe."

She was only able to hear his words, not absorb them. His arms were clutching her as if he'd never let her go. "Why?" she breathed.

"I'm one of those bad things that happen to good people."

"No," she denied automatically. "No, you're not."

Rolle's gratitude at her naïve words made him smile. "You don't know me yet, honey," he said, tracing the side of her face with a finger.

"Not _yet_," she reiterated.

"Rachel, I'm serious."

"So am I," she maintained, pressing in to kiss him. "If you want this as much as I do then we'll work out the rest."

"It's not going to be easy," Rolle said, shaking his head even as his eyes begged her to be strong enough for this. "There's a lot of stuff I haven't dealt with. Some friends have offered to help me."

"Do you want me there with you as you go through this?" she asked, being serious for him.

"Yes," he whispered in a breath. "Do you want to be there? With me?"

She nodded slowly.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Yes."

"That's two," he muttered.

"What is?" she asked.

"I told Edward about you. He's one of my friends who has offered to help me," Rolle began. "He said I needed to tell you three things. He said I had to be completely open with you about these things and make the difficulties you'd face clear. No matter what your answers were I had to trust you to know what was best for _you_."

"Your friend sounds like a smart man," she said running her hands over his shoulders and neck. "You should follow his advice."

"I'll have to for a while," Rolle admitted.

"_Have_ to?" Rachel asked, finding that to be odd.

Rolle nodded and swallowed hard as tension returned to his eyes. "He's going to try and help me. I don't know if I know how to be around someone all the time. I've pretty much been alone for almost seventy years."

Rachel blinked several times thinking she must have misunderstood him. "Seventy...? What?"

Rolle loosened his hold around her to give her space. His head bowed. His voice, when he answered, was soft and full of regret.

"I'm a vampire."

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**A/N:** Yes, I'm grinning at you. SEND REVIEWS and there just might be a special treat for you. Maybe. We'll see. I'm still grinning at you, because I think I know what that last line has done to you. ::wink:: The question is... why? Why would Rolle end it like that? I look forward to your hypotheses of what _you_ think _he_ was thinking.

And now I get to really sing some praise. These are stories you MUST read if you like vampire stories! (if you want to know my AH favorites, you'll have to PM me)

_Let your Light Shine, A Life Extraordinary_, and _This Hungry World_, by **Lolashoes**. (really, anything by Lola)

_This Buried Life,_ by my very own (and yes, I'm claiming her as MINE) **Emmanuelle Nathan**.

_La canzone della Bella Cigna,_ by_** Philadelphic,**_ and just maybe there will be a special treat for you!

_Stranger than Fiction,_ by **MasenVixen**, a break-away canon story that goes AU from Edward's departure in _New Moon._

And _Osa Bella_, by **Myg**. It's completely AU, but a great vampire story.


	23. Chapter 23 Special THANK YOU outtake

_**This special outtake is for all of you who have read and reviewed. Hearing your thoughts has meant the world to me.**_

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_**Chapter 23: Absolucíon epilogue special THANK YOU outtake**_

"I'm a vampire."

Rachel blinked. "A what?" She must have heard him wrong.

"A vampire," Rolle repeated, resting his hands loosely on her waist.

They stood in the cliff-side bunker that Rolle had carried her down to after descending the sheer cliffs of Marin Headlands overlooking San Francisco bay. Though Rachel had her eyes closed as she clung to his back, dangling over the cliff, she had heard him kick at something that broke inward and when she opened her eyes she saw the spotter's bunker carved into the rock. The back of the cool chamber had a thick metal door that was rusted but had once been battleship gray. Wires wrapped in now-moldy cloth snaked down the wall and ended knee high from the floor, which was covered with the remains of the broken plywood that had barricaded the chamber to keep out sea birds.

She smiled, waiting for the joke. "You're a vampire," she repeated sardonically, "who's been alone for almost seventy years."

Rolle nodded.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to suppress her smile. "Prove it."

Rolle's brows went up in surprise. It wasn't the reaction he expected from her. He wasn't sure what he expected her to say—maybe disbelief or nervous laughter—but he didn't expected her to challenge him. He lowered his hands and took a step back from her, looking around the small chamber for some way to prove his claim. He deliberately avoided looking at her. He could only think of one terrifyingly obvious way to prove he was a vampire and that was not going to happen. He had to think of another way.

Glancing out over the ocean, he said, "I know how it sounds... but I can show you. Just don't freak out."

"Yeah, totally," Rachel said with a grin, shifting her weight to one leg and folding her arms.

Rolle moved to the opening, shaking his head. He looked back at her just as the setting sun slipped through a sliver of clouds and illuminated him. His skin glinted like prisms and the entire chamber filled with tiny scattered rainbows that danced as he moved. Rachel stared at him, nonplussed. Her mind not able to make sense of what she was seeing, even when Rolle peeled off his shirt sending even more rainbows across the rock walls. It wasn't until after he said again, "Don't freak out", and he flung himself through the opening that she finally accepted what her eyes were telling her. The cave was just as bright, but the color vanished with him.

Gaping in shock, Rachel rushed to the window and looked over the cliff searching for him. The surf below was churning and white. There was no sign of him.

"Oh, my God," she said in a gasp of breath, and repeated a moment later, "Ohmygod. Oh, my- Ohmygod. God..." She continued to look for him, but saw nothing. "Okay, okay," she muttered to herself. "Either he's a vampire or he just committed suicide. Oh, my God. Holy shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, hell, please be a vampire! I want you to be a vampire!"

The sounds of her gulping air were made artificially loud as it bounced off the stone around her. She continued to search for any sign of him, but the longer she waited the more panic she felt. The sun's final rays disappeared beyond the horizon when she saw something at the base of the cliff. Rolle's pale body was maneuvering around the boulders, just as unaffected by the waves that broke around him as he had been by the winds on Fisherman's Wharf.

Rolle looked up the cliff toward her, then looked out to sea as the tiny break in the clouds sealed itself closed and darkness began to thicken as the fog slowly built offshore. Hand over hand, he pulled himself up the cliff's face. Even if he was strong, he was moving far too fast for a normal person.

Rachel put her elbow on the rock and dropped her forehead into her hand as she watched him climb, disappearing here and there when protruding rocks blocked her view. As he got closer, he paused and looked up at her trying to gauge her reaction.

She stepped back from the opening and turned into the small space, pacing in the five foot area. Rolle lifted himself over the ledge and swung his legs in slowly as if he were trying not to startle her. She stopped in mid-stride and stared at him, but said nothing. Her expression was tense and her heart was racing, but did not flinch at his return nor were her eyes wide with fear. She had spent three days with this man. She had made love to him. She knew he would not hurt her.

Trying to fill the silence, Rolle tried to explain. "I'm not supposed to tell you these things. Humans aren't supposed to know about us, but... my friends... they said if I wanted to see you again, you had to know about me, what's happened to me. I don't feed on humans. I never have. Not even once." He motioned to his eyes but Rachel did not understand the gesture.

He was nervous, but not afraid. Carlisle and Edward had insisted that Rachel be told three things, the first two of which were related to his human life. First, she had to know about Gillian. Next, she had to know how isolated Rolle had been and that it would be hard for him to be around people a lot.

These two things were solely about him as a man. She had taken these revelations as only more reason to love him. He would have understood it if she couldn't love a vampire, because, well... that was creepy. But to love him just as _him_, even broken and messed up?

The last thing they insisted he tell Rachel was that he was a vampire. Edward, in particular, was adamant on this point. _Don't decide for her. Don't assume you know what she wants. Present her with the facts, then let her decide for herself. Trust me on this. Remember, I already made that mistake so this is my turn to help _you_ avoid being hurt or hurting her._

_"Love holds no power without choice," _Edward had told him._ "I learned that the hard way."_

"I don't think I totally understand," Rachel said, because that was something you'd say when you were in totally shock.

Rolle looked at her from under his lashes. "Do you... _want_ to understand?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

Rolle allowed himself to sigh tightly in some relief that she was still listening. So he explained everything to her. He told her about his eye color and the difference between him and other vampires: red for those who fed on humans, gold for those who fed on animals. He told her about their speed and strength, and that he was only just learning about most of this because he was an oddity for their kind, having spent almost all of his immortality in the oceans, not knowing there were choices. He told her how his break with reality as a human had carried over into his immortality, leaving a fissure in his mind that made it hard for him to keep out the influence of others.

He spoke for ten minutes before he realized that Rachel was waiting for him expectantly, and almost impatiently. "What?"

"How is this is the end of us?" she asked.

Rolle stumbled back a half of a step when he realized she had been waiting for the shoe to drop that would explain to her why his being a vampire would keep them apart.

Nothing he had told her had shaken her. Nothing she had learned had been reason enough to stay away from him.

He smiled crookedly at her and shrugged. "I think me being a mental basket case is probably our bigger hurdle." When Rachel just continued to stare at him, he added, "That, and the fact that I don't know how to do this... any of this. Dating?" he said, then added incredulously, "A human? And I have to stay with my friends to get their help while I work through this. And you have a job and a life..." He shook his head and shrugged.

Happiness finally started to chip through her shock and a slow smile blossomed on her lips when she realized he had actually been thinking about this. Still smiling she moved toward him.

He watched her advance warily, not sure he should begin to hope what her smile meant for them even as it continued to get wider and happier, crinkling her eyes.

"Really?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

She kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck and practically crawling up his body to get closer to him. His question was answered in the best possible way as his own arms circled her and pulled her close. Their smiles broke their kiss even though they tried their best to keep their lips together.

"So what then?" he asked. "How do we do this? Like a long distance relationship?"

"I guess," she answered almost absently as she reveled in the simple notion that he was still in her life, curling her fingers into his damp hair.

Rolle stiffened in her arms and looked at her, his face tight with concern. "Did I say something wrong?" He felt awkward and over sensitive, laboring over each choice of words.

"What? No," she hurried to assure him. "No, I think it's... Wow."

"I mean, the more we consider logistics..." His voice trailed off sadly.

"I want it to work. We can make it work," she insisted. "We'll write each other, and text and call. We'll find places to meet whenever we can."

Rachel's imagination spun wildly. If vampires were real, who knew what else could be real? In spite of the realization that fantasy worlds existed, she was still pragmatic about reality, and in her reality, she had a job and bills to pay and obligations to family and friends. While tempting to abandon it all and submerge herself into Rolle's world, the reality was that she still knew very little about him and only time would guide them now to help them adapt to whatever fate would bring.

"I have to stay with the Cullens," he repeated. "And you have a life, and friends, and a job."

She smiled, happy to know that even if he was a creature of myth, Rolle still understood practical matters as well. She was grateful that he could offer this consideration, but that did not stop her from wanting to be with him. "Then I'll come to you," she said, ignoring the rest.

Rolle regarded her quietly, concerned at her quick dismissal. "You realize, we've only touched on the..."

"...Obstacles we'll face," she said, finishing his sentence for him, ignoring his startled expression. "I know, but we'll deal with them as they come up and see what happens."

Rolle didn't know what to think of her easy acceptance. Demon, vampire... he still had trouble letting go of the idea that he wasn't worthy of this. "You want to do this? You wouldn't mind? We wouldn't really have any privacy," he pointed out.

"Then we'll find someplace close where we can go."

"I can't be around a lot of people, honey. Not until I can learn which are my thoughts and what I'm getting from the outside."

"So we'll find some place secluded," Rachel insisted, instantly finding an answer to this problem as well.

"You'd always be in the shadows to be with me."

"Rolle, I don't... I just... None of that matters," she said, shaking her head and holding him tight. "I don't want this story to be over." She paused, looking at him, searching for something she might be missing. "Do you?"

Rolle's expressions softened as he looked into her hopeful eyes. She had countered every one of his concerns in spite of all the obstacles and unknowns. More importantly, he realized he hadn't been influenced by her unflappable optimism in having some kind of future with him.

A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "No." He pressed his lips to hers. "I think this story is just beginning."

_~ Really and truly the end ~_

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**A/N: ** Thanks to MasenVixen for letting me borrow a line from chapter 25 of "Stranger than Fiction." _L__ove holds no power without choice. _It suited this outtake perfectly.


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